#or is this just a drabble

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part one

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- eventually explicit sex, freaky but fluffy- this part- obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mentions of sex, Satoru jerking off, whimpering (bc ofc) he becomes a little Yan tbh, Satoru half ass pleasing a client but he can't get you off his mind hehe, pretty woman vibes 🤭

Finished <3

Part two>>>

Escort! Satoru who doesn't just sleep with any client, no he's picky certainly, he gets to be at this caliber, of the most notorious escort there is. Some women he'll help get off with his fingers, some he'll only let suck his cock deep in their throat, some very lucky ones he'll actually fuck, bent over crying out his name. No matter what however, they were always pleased, he has the best rating there even is on his site.

Escort! Satoru only takes jobs and clients that he feels like, he's the most popular person on this app, highly requested, he can browse who he's meeting before hand. And if he absolutely can't stand them, perhaps that - gasp - hate Digimon!? - he keeps it to just the date, a polite fake smile on his perfect features, baby blues hidden behind his dark round shades.

Escort! Satoru gets a notification, lounging around in his penthouse, yes Gojo is rich from this career, but he enjoys the thrill of this even more, and he enjoys putting a smile on a pretty girls face, giving them pleasure when they may have never had any. His dick is just too pretty not to share with the world, truly. - That may seem conceited but it's really just factual! - He peers at the notification then, blinking quickly as the picture, so gorgeous he's damn near blushing just from seeing your face, your bare shoulders in a slinky dress, fuck since when does he get half hard looking at collarbones!?

Escort! Satoru is already throbbing and hard the longer he stares at your picture, your shy and sweet little message on there with it - 'I have never done anything like this... but with work, I have no time for anything, and... I really need a handsome date to this charity ball. Could you please come with, I will gladly pay you extra to spend some time before so we can have our story together' Satoru blinks a bit, full lips pursing, beginning to type back. 'You buying lunch?' He smirks as you laugh react to his comment. 'I'm buying lunch'

Escort! Satoru doesn't date in real life, he's merely arm candy for many women, but when he sits across from you at the outdoor diner, and you smile shyly, his heart fucking stops. He's been with so many beautiful people, but nothing has made him feel whatever this is. 'Hey there!' you introduce yourself, and he can't stop staring at your lips as they move, you have a pretty red color adorning them, he tries to focus but his brain is short circuiting. 'Satoru...' he says, taking your much smaller hand in his own, staring at you behind Gucci shades. He never lets dates call him that, he prefers Gojo of course, but when you repeat 'Satoru' in that sexy voice, he's ended.

Escort! Satoru forgets what time even is, while you pour over some details of your life with him, he's never been more interested actually in how you played the flute. Tell him it all. That you like Pokemon- Digimon is better but- close enough, tell him about your collection. He can't get enough, you all spend so much time talking the sun is starting to set. 'Oh no, we should go! I'm keeping you-' Satoru lowers those shades, his bright blue eyes drinking you in, making you falter as they trail across your body ever so slowly, making you heat up, remembering his profession. 'you're not keeping me, but one question, sweets' he leans forward, so close now, brushing back a lock of your hair. 'why would you go to an escort agency, is it just for the date? or more?'

Escort! Satoru loves watching the blush dance on your skin, the glittering of your eyes when he pulls back, thumb brushing your heated cheek just so, feeling it's warmth. 'It's just for the date, I read your reviews, they're insane...' he grins now, brushing back silvery locks. 'read which reviews?' you heat up further, fiddling with your fingers just a bit. 'If it went that way, it'd be the first time in years for me' Satoru blinks in shock. 'how?' You sigh, sipping the rest of your drink down through your straw. 'work plus being a homebody nerd, well... I never meet people or have time' ah, Satoru could make you cum so hard you wouldn't be able to form words, but he takes a sip of his own drink, saying casually- 'and you never... want to?'

Escort! Satoru thinks you're so cute when your teeth catch your lower lip, and your lashes flutter. 'of course but that's not why I hired you, I really do need a perfect date, though... your looks may have swayed me' he chuckles a bit now. 'So shallow!' you scoff, as the two of you get ready to leave. 'Do you have a suit or do you need me to buy one?' Gojo smirks at you. 'I have so many suits, and tuxedos, don't worry' 'ah you come prepared I see' he hums just a bit, walking you to your car, far too close when he leans over you just a bit, inhaling the sweet scent of you. 'I'm prepared for whatever you need, sweets, anything at all' at his connotation he watches you get more flustered, giggling a bit, feeling so stupid next to a guy like this, but he just finds you the cutest thing he's ever seen.

Escort! Satoru can't take how much you're sinking into his mind the passing days, the charity ball is in a week, but the two of you constantly text for 'practice' but he becomes more and more enamored, you're smart, sweet, and oh so fucking pretty. When you send him a selfie before he goes on a date with a client, he can hardly take it, you're in your business suit, nothing sexy- but it drives him to distraction, your pretty lips he can picture around him. Satoru can hardly focus when he's supposed to be pleasing this girl, his fingers usually so sure aren't hitting her spots, because now he can only think of you.

Escort! Satoru cannot have a bad review, oh no, he decides to excuse himself from the pretty girl on her bed, going to the bathroom to stare at this picture of you. beautiful, can I see more? when you read that you nervously shut the door to your sky rise office, unbuttoning just a bit of your blouse, tummy clenching when he hearts the message, you know you shouldn't get so excited, you're paying him after all. He's likely with a woman constantly, you see the sheer amount of reviews, but you can't help yourself, you find him entirely too charming, it's easy to forget this is just for business. For every salacious review, there were others- sweet, funny, made me feel pretty- and that's what really drew you in.

Escort! Satoru after he recieves that sexy little picture, instead of going into the room with the eager girl waiting, is instead stroking his long, pretty cock, head falling back against the door, while you nervously button your blouse back up, imagination going insane. You weren't against sleeping with someone casually, but for money would it mean... he didn't want to? The thought eats at you while Satoru's dripping precum over his phone, right on that picture, whispering your name ever so softly, forgetting where he was and shit, who he was, he can practically see those nipples under your blouse, dying to know what they taste like.

Escort! Satoru may have had sex before with the client surely, he loves a beautiful woman, before he met you. But now you're constantly on his mind. Even with his cock so hard and ready, when he's back to kissing on her and playing with her, he can't do more, frustrating him to no end. He has her squirting down his hand with the way his practiced fingers know how to hit every woman's spot, she's dripping down to his wrists, even. When he finishes, she looks up at him, all fucked out, trying to kiss him, but that's Satoru's biggest rule, never, ever kiss on the lips. He turns his head. 'sorry sweetheart I don't do that'

Escort! Satoru takes his extra money, he made bank tonight, but the entire time he had his fingers curling inside a slick, eager hole, he was picturing them deep inside you, watching as you cum for him. You'd probably sound and look so pretty, wouldn't you? As you're shooting him a good night text- who even has ever sent him one? - you're back on his mind, still aching from earlier. Turning down blowjobs is not something Escort Satoru does, but he did, and now he's throbbing when he rubs himself over his boxers, whimpering just a bit, pulling the picture back out and working his hand up and down his shaft, as it's aching to fill you

Escort! Satoru has a notification from one of his regulars pop up on the phone, right above that picture he can't stop staring at, while his cock is sticky from his spit and precum, loud in his opulent bedroom, the sound of it lewd along with his heavy, husky breaths. He's picturing just what you'd look like on your knees, with those innocent eyes, maybe he'd tear that business suit off your body, and paint every pretty inch of it with his ropes of cum, until you were just covered in white. The thought alone makes him decline the request, shutting his eyes and picturing just that as his spurts of white cum pour down his hand.

Escort! Satoru whimpers when he touches his sensitive tip, murmuring your name, trying to come down. He finds himself cleaning himself up and staring at the mirror, wondering just what the fuck you've done to him already. Surely it's... something new or different, it can't be more right? He hovers over choosing the date, or messaging you good night, and finds himself texting you with a dumb little 🥺, smiling like a lovesick fool when you send this to him-'can't wait for our 'date' it'll be fun! 😍- and Satoru's getting hard again from a fucking emoji.

[ayyy-pee]

waking up freezing and shivering, teeth chattering every night because your husband is a blanket hog. you know it's not on purpose. he just can't help it. doesn't even know he does it most times. you'd think after years together you'd be used to it, but waking up curled into the fetal position as you try to retain even a smidge of warmth is something you don't think you'll ever adjust to.

so you reach behind you, feeling your spouses large form wrapped snug as a bug in your shared blanket and you grip onto the fabric. you pull as hard as you can but you don't manage to move him even an inch. you try once more...same result.

"ken..." you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself. no response. "kento..."

he doesn't budge. you're tempted to just get up and go grab another blanket, but your husband, despite his seriousness, can get quite pouty when you do that. so you tap him hard instead sure to jab him in the spot you know is his most sensitive. this seems to do the trick as he grunts in response.

"I'm cold," you tell nanami and he sits up quickly, realizing what he's done. his pajama top hangs off one shoulder. his blonde hair is pointing every which way and sleep is heavy on his eyelids, threatening to weigh him down again any minute.

"I'm sorry, love," nanami speaks, voice rough and deep with exhaustion, but the sincerity in his apology clear.

then he's throwing the blanket back over you both. only he adds in a little extra warmth as he wraps his arm around your waist and throws a large leg over your body.

nanami buries his face in your neck, adjusting himself so that he can be as close to you as possible. only a few seconds pass before you hear his light snoring behind you. and you know the warmth you feel is from more than just his touch.

[softaestluv]

Thinking about Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who’s with a reader who’s never sucked dick before…and he’s a little too excited to stuff her mouth full of his fat cock.

cw: a lil bit of pervert ghost, oral

“Simon, I’ve never— I’ve never done this,” You stuttered over your words, fingers digging indents into his thighs as you stared up at him on your knees.

His thumb in your mouth, nudged right up against the wet flesh of your cheek, staring up at him with dewy eyes and shallow breaths.

He knows.

Knows you’ve never had a cock in your mouth, so innocent, so sweet. And here he was, thick cock in hand, reddened, swollen, precum beading at the tip. Desperate, eager, throbbing in his massive palm because he was the first to ruin your innocence, defile your purity, take it as his fucking own. A cock too fat for your first time, he knows that much.

“I know, baby,” He murmured, smearing the fat of his cock head against your plump lips, “Let me show you, yeah?”

You nodded earnestly, precum glistening on your lips.

“Yeah?” He chuckled, but it was anything but remorseful, “Want me to teach you how t’suck cock, dove?”

✎ᝰ.ᐟ

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[xlettex]

Suna Rintarou has ignored you for seven hours, twenty-three minutes, and forty-five seconds. Not that you’re counting. He hadn’t looked at you when you waved good morning. Didn’t reply when you texted him during lunch. And now, during practice, he’s pretending you don’t exist—unless it’s to rotate away the second you step near him. Which is why you’ve had it.

You march across the gym floor with fire in your veins, stopping right in front of him during a water break. The rest of the team goes quiet, curious eyes flicking between you and the tall, unbothered middle blocker who’s carefully unwrapping sports tape like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Rin, what the hell is your problem?”

Suna doesn’t even look at you. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

He scoffs. “Why don’t you just go hang out with your boyfriend?”

You blink. “I’m sorry— my what now?”

Now he looks at you. Flat expression. Bored tone. “The guy you hugged this morning.”

You stare at him. Then you laugh—one short, incredulous breath. “You mean my little cousin?” 

Suna freezes. A beat. Another beat. A visible oh, shit creeps across his face as the team collectively chokes behind you.

“Oh,” he mutters. “Well. He was… tall.”

You slap his arm. “He’s, like, an inch taller than me. And he was just thanking me for lunch money.”

“Well, it didn’t look innocent,” he grumbles, ears now bright pink.

“Are you serious right now?! You’ve been sulking all day over my cousin?”

He shrugs and drops his gaze. “Didn’t know he was your cousin.”

You narrow your eyes. “And what if he wasn’t?”

Silence. The team holds its breath.

Suna exhales, then mutters, “Then I wouldn’t like it.”

Your heart stutters.

His eyes meet yours again—and this time, he really looks at you. His voice is no longer bored. It’s quiet. Honest. “Seeing you with someone else, I mean.”

You tilt your head, a smile curling on your lips—sharp and smug. "Then do something about it.”

Behind you, Atsumu lets out a low, delighted cackle. “Ohhh, shiiit—she got you.”

You don’t wait for a response. Just turn on your heel, walking out of the gym with your head held high. But not before glancing back once—

And catching Suna frozen in place, face red, as the entire team starts swarming him with grins, whistles, and way too much noise. You smile to yourself.

Let him squirm.

[hiraethwrote]

Imagine trying to escape an annoying ex who just will not leave you alone. And one day, around lunchtime, you’re so unlucky as to run into them in a cafe. They start badgering you about grabbing a bite together when you just blurt out “I’m actually here on a date!”

They instantly start grimacing and asking all sorts of questions about who this might be, causing you to panic. “Aah, there he is!” You desperately grab the arm of the next person to enter the cafe, hoping they’re able to read the situation and then have the decency to play along.

That random individual is no other than Satoru, who looks absolutely baffled by the abrupt encounter. His eyes darts between your ex and you, pleading with your eyes to help you out.

It takes him less than a second to make up his mind, slinging his arm over your shoulders and flashing your ex a smug grin — and then he commits wholeheartedly to the bit. He starts lying through his teeth about how much he enjoyed your last date, that he just picked up that book you recommended and he thought you might want to go to a botanical garden for your next meeting.

Eventually, your ex has had enough of the sight and leaves the cafe — you exhale deeply and relief washes over you. And once you begin to thank the stranger, he notices just how pretty you are. Kind eyes, a warm little smile that lingered after having laughed along to his performance, and a frame that simply seems to fit next to him.

The little unexpected interaction has caused you to run late. Rushing out a million little thank you’s, before pulling out your wallet. You pay for what you came for, then hand him some cash, “I’d love to pay for your lunch but I have to run. So just, take this, thank you again!” You chuckle lightly before quickly backing out of the cafe.

In your hurried haze, Satoru barely gets a word in. What really bothers him, is how he never managed to get your name before you’re out of there, and from that moment you’re stuck on his mind.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[bunny-jpeg]

simon doesn't have social media - he has a whatsapp to message exactly two types of people: military personnel (outside of their formal channels) and you. it was easier that way to keep everyone in one chat and the app was pretty handy.

you had never seen someone's phone storage be under fifty percent, but he didn't have much on the phone. most of the storage was taken up by the apps already pre-installed and photos - the man loved his photos.

his memory wasn't the best, he had his hunches as to why that was. so when he was home, he always took photos. especially ones of you. you hated when he sent you the worse ones - the time you tripped over your laces on a walk through the park, that time you just devoured your taco during a dinner date.

and all the photos of you asleep. so many photos of you asleep.

simon loved them all because they were photos of you. you didn't have to be all done up with the right angles or lighting. he wanted to remember you - so even when the distance felt large and unbearable. he could remember the times you two spent together. that exact walk in the park, that exact dinner date. a million little moments together, with the promise of a million more.

the whatsapp chat was like a scrapbook of your relationship - every i love you, the shopping lists, the times of returning flights and trains, the memes you sent (and he had no idea what they were meant to be), the pictures of wild flowers he'd take because they reminded him of you. a million messages flowed between you two - hundreds of photos and thousands of i love yous. good mornings in total different time zones, rants about work, the various emojis you sent and simon would respond with proper text. the i miss yous and the i love yous mixed together, yearning for return but keeping the love alive.

it was all mapped out through your frequent text messages.

and while you could map out your entire relationship through your whatsapp chat, there was a certain collection of photos that permeated through the chat. - simon riley didn't have social media. but he did love sending you some nudes.

you told him that he could have a thirst trap instagram which he replied with, "why would i? i don't want anyone else lookin' at what's yours." and for the first time in your entire relationship he used an emoji. the winking face one. <3

a/n: this got away from me- this was originally supposed to be about simon not understanding memes and you being the first to show them to him.... oops.

[humanjarvis]

you’d been perplexed when sylus had called you in the middle of the day—which was usually his favorite time to rest. 

“can you come to the base, sweetie?” he’d rasped, voice thick with ruined sleep. “i need your help with something.” 

your confusion is all the more reason for you to head to the base. when you arrive, you let yourself in and greet mephisto with a poke on the beak before hurrying to sylus’s bedroom.

“is something wrong?” you breathe, all but barging in. quickly, you scan the room for threats or intruders before your eyes land on the hulking figure in front of you. 

the hulking figure who’s uncharacteristically hunched over his bed, head bent and looking defeated. 

at your voice, he looks up, and you know him well enough to see the relief and slight embarrassment in his ruby eyes. 

“…sylus?” you ask hesitantly, “what’s going on? you should be sleeping right now.” 

“i was asleep,” he agrees with a slow nod. “and then…i ran into a slight problem,” he responds carefully, eyes flitting forlornly to the side of the bed.

curious, you come to stand beside him, placing a hand on his sagging shoulder. it takes a few seconds, but then, you spot it: trapped between the dark oak boards of his bedframe is a small brilliant red gem, glittering slightly in what little sunlight fills the room. 

“are you able to retrieve it?” he asks quietly. “it must have fallen earlier. when you’re not here…i can’t sleep without it.” 

“o…kay?” you reply, your confusion only doubling. taking a moment to study him, you notice the small pout on his face and stroke his slightly mussed hair. “of course i’ll get it. just a sec.” 

a moment later, you’re kneeling down to stick your hand in the bedframe and wiggling your fingers until you feel the crystal’s cool surface. you pull it out in one fluid motion, blow the dust off, and deposit it into sylus’s waiting hand. flashing you a tired, grateful smile, he immediately places it securely under his pillow. 

“there you go!” you chirp, pleased to have helped him. “but…can i ask something? why didn’t you just fish it out yourself?” 

avoiding your gaze, he clears his throat before he speaks.

“…my hands were too big.”

[orbitganymede]

18+, MDNI

having a one night stand with simon and thinking you’d never see him again, he was a good lay, giving you orgasm after orgasm and speaking absolute filth into your ear when he was deep inside your cunt. you’d say maybe the best you’ve ever had, but that didn’t stop you from leaving early in the morning from his sparsely decorated flat, a note left on his side table that simply said you’d had a good night and you hoped he did too, you even added a cute little smiley to the end. then you’d gone on with your day, with your life.

until, about 2 weeks after, there was a knock at your door, it’s late, already having put on your pjs and started searching your pantry for something to make for dinner. and when you open the door, your surprise is palpable, there simon stood, long, strong legs covered in cargo pants, pretty brown eyes locked on you, a black surgical mask covering the lower part of his face, hiding the long scar that you remember feeling rub against your thigh. he holds a bag of takeout and then proceeds to shoulder his way in, leaving a small kiss on your cheek through the mask before making his way to your couch.

you want to ask how he found your place, how he knew you were home, and why the hell he’s here. you actually do ask the third one, which he answers with a simple, gruff “dinner”. you nod slowly, finding your way to the other end of the couch, but are met with a huff and a large hand pulling you closer to him, making sure your leg is pressed right up against his. he plates your food, then starts eating his own, makes small comments about the taste and asks questions about your day. the night seems almost normal, like something you’ve done before with him, disregarding the fact that you’d only been around each other for 2 hours tops and almost all of that time was spent by you trying to do something other than moan his name.

when you’re done you expect him to leave, to go on with his night, or maybe you to wake up from a dream. instead he makes his way to your bedroom, sits down on the bed and tells you how he can’t stop thinking about your lips around his cock. and yeah, you fold.

that’s how you end up learning that his stamina is insane, especially for an older guy, and he likes to see your face, makes sure to face you towards a mirror in full nelson or holds you in mating press with his pink (scarred) lips against yours. maybe you also learn that his phone lock screen is a color scarily similar to your irises and you see a file with your full name (one you hadn’t given him) front and center when he rolls over to unlock his phone, he says something about how he needs to send a message to ‘his team’ about dinner this weekend to meet his new bird, you wonder what kind of sports team he’s on, gotta be rugby with a build like his, but your thoughts don’t stray too far before he’s ready to go again, something about three being his lucky number, that this time it will take.

[theorist-fox]

Can I interest you in some silly sex with Simon? 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

18+

Word count: 1k.

CW: nothing really. Just silly sex. Just giggling sex. Just I-need-to-give-this-man-some-humanity sex. Simon is ticklish and you find out, that's the plot.

Masterlist 🦊

You look delectable straddling his hips.

Naked and soft, plump tits sitting prettily in his hands. His thumbs swipe idly around your perked nipples as you ride him slowly, early morning sun peeking through the curtains and lapping at your skin. What a way to wake up, what a sight.

He stares at your lips and how they part for him—something he still has to get used to, though he probably never truly will. How dulcet does his name sound if it’s your voice whispering it, how beautiful your eyes when they take in his face.

Soft hands are pressed on his chest for leverage, and you’re treating him with a view he keeps pinned to the forefront of his brain—gliding your cunt until you’re chock-full of him, stroking yourself until you’re shivering.

He likes it when he’s on top, sure. He’s used to taking the lead and orchestrating every detail, in and out of the job. 

But when you allow him to sit back and take it? Hell, sign him up. He’d do it every day. Especially when it’s this lazy sex here, in which you’re canting your hips to cum before he does, giving him the blissful chance of feeling you clench around him when he's still hard. 

Goosebumps rise under your nails as they graze down his chest and brush his stomach. Your hands wander blindly on his belly, then his sides, as you clock his eyes with your heavy ones, panting softly, idly—my beautiful, beautiful girl.

But then you inadvertently brush his ribs, and he stiffens—even squirms, and your movements come to a halt.

You blink as conscience returns to you slowly, and the room sinks into tense silence. His cock twitches inside of you when you tilt your head inquisitively, squinting your eyes.

Experimentally, you brush your fingertips against his ribs again, and his biceps flatten to his sides, trapping your hands.

Your eyes widen, and his do the same.

“Don’t.”

You gasp, “Oh my God.”

“Darling, no.” He warns, but you’ve clearly made up your mind already.

Your lips are curled in a smile that promises mischief, and he can only give up, sit back, and count his losses.

“Darling, yes.”

Simon feels your fingers wiggle under the tight press of his arms, but no matter his strength, they're seemingly useless against that playful resolve you're displaying.

His cock is still embarrassingly hard inside you, and Simon reckons it won't soften any time soon. You don’t seem eager to get off him either, thus prolonging the torture with each tiny movement you make.

He inhales sharply and fights tooth and nail to school his expression into neutrality. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is locked tight. The only thing giving him away is the flush of his cheeks, getting pinker by the second because he refuses to open his mouth to breathe a much-needed lungful of air. Knowing that if he would, he'd bark a laugh that would proclaim you as the winner of this fight.

He would never.

You roll your hips, then—cheap trick. He unravels with a shaky breath, and his biceps give out enough for you to slip your hands away.

And then, he knows he's done for.

“Cut it out.” He barks, trying to sound stern and miserably failing. He knows because you're laughing even harder.

Your fingers feel like tiny bugs crawling up his sides, and they make his breath catch in his throat.

“Never.” You say, with a grin that scrunches your nose. A smile that would normally make his heart throb, but right now just makes him wish he were a lesser man so he could throttle you.

“Fuckin’-“

You chuckle.

You evil little cunt.

Resistance lasts a few more seconds before he bursts.

It’s not a full laugh that leaves him; more of a wheeze that makes you chortle like a wicked witch. His chest heaves as your fingers frantically tickle his sides. Tries to get you off him by shaking his hips, but that only makes the two of you falter and moan, and then chuckle and catch your breaths.

His shoulders shake in a breathless, choking laugh that pitches upward as you continue with your assault (yes, assault—he is not being dramatic), eyes veiled with tears of frustration and mirth. He shrieks when your hands travel under his armpits—the sound makes you giggle in a way that would have him melt. 

“That laugh’s lovely, baby.” You say with a smarmy grin he wishes he could wipe with a kiss, hands unrelenting against his sides. “Sound like a kettle whistling.”

He tries to glower and push you off, but you’re surprisingly strong when you’re focused. Right now, your only goal is to apparently make him hate you—he'd rather be held at gunpoint than being forced to hold in a laugh that makes his stomach hurt.

Simon now looks shockingly harmless, with his cheeks flushed bright red and his voice an octave too high—wouldn't look dangerous if he tried.

“Tea ready, yet?” You add, batting your lashes, because why not rub salt into the already embarrassing wound marring his pride.

It’s that unfathomably stupid joke that finally makes Simon crack. He barks out a laugh that bubbles up his throat, rippling through his stomach so suddenly that you bounce above him. Your own laugh follows soon after, because each time you manage to steal one from him, your heart vibrates with loving triumph.

But still—he is Simon Riley, isn’t he? Member of Task Force 141. Lieutenant in the UK Special Forces, SAS. The Ghost. There is some pride in there, one he'd like to keep intact.

He tries to recollect his breath, sniffling, and his arms shoot out to wrap around your waist. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him.

It’s then that you find yourself in a position of utter disadvantage, on your back with your big brute of a boyfriend holding you down. You’re wide-eyed and still smiling with barely contained giggles, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn't make his heart soar.

Sure, he’s panting, still proper flushed and apple-cheeked, with shivers wrecking his spine and unshed tears in his eyes—but he takes great pride in having won yet another fight (again, not overreacting at all, if you ask him).

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You fix him with a look. “Simon, no.”

Before you can add more to your complaint, he rams his cock into you until your chest stutters, your lips mouthing around a shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

He fucks you into the mattress, then—once, twice, until the remnants of laughter vanish from your face and you’re trembling in bliss, eyes rolled back under heavy eyelids.

He places a sloppy kiss down to your collarbone.

“Simon, yes.”

[hellishattempt]

nanami kento comes home on a saturday afternoon, hands full of groceries and hair freshly cut. in the distance, he hears his precious wife humming along to her favorite soundtrack. you must not have heard him come in. he smiles to himself, setting the groceries on the counter, but not unloading them. that can wait. right now, he wants to hold you.

he slips out of his shoes, padding quietly to the laundry room where you are folding towels. you have your back to him, headphones lodged in your ears. as nanami gets closer, the music bleeding from your headphones becomes audible. he chuckles softly. no matter how many times he tells you it's bad for your ears, you insist on listening to your music at just below full volume.

snaking his arms around your waist, you jump at the sudden contact. nanami presses his chest against your back as you take out your headphones, leaning into his touch. you sway in silence for a moment, nanami resting his chin on your shoulder. when you turn to face him, your expression changes at the sight of his hair.

"your hair," you state dumbly. "you cut it."

"yes," your husband muses. "is there something wrong with it?"

"no, no!" you assure nanami, studying his hair. "i just wasn't expecting it. you normally have me do it, which you know i don't mind doing."

"i know, but i didn't want to bother you on your cleaning day."

your expression softens at his words. nanami, your ever loving, ever caring husband, always thinking about you before himself. you reach one hand up, smoothing the hair down the back of his neck. as you bring your hand up, the freshly cut hair pricks your palm, and nanami lets out a low hiss.

you immediately apologize, pulling away. "did that hurt?"

"yes, but it's okay. it felt... good," nanami confessed. "... do it again. please." his voice is thick and demanding, and you obey without hesitation.

this time, you use just the tips of your fingertips to graze his undercut, beginning at the base of his neck. his breathing quickens as you continue to to run your hands through his undercut, going up and down, switching from one hand to both, thumbs caressing the sides of the cut. the laundry room fills with his melodic whimpers and faint groans. his eyes are shut tight, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"fuck..." he cusses lowly.

"you okay, nani?" you giggle, stopping momentarily. his eyes flash open, pupils blown. "kento?"

"let's go to the bedroom," he insisted, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the master bedroom. you barely have time react before nanami pushes you back on to the bed, practically ripping your leggings off.

"kento, what are you doin-" you try to protest, his hands clamping around your wrist and bringing them down to grip his hair. his head disappears between your leg, lips latching around your clit. involuntarily, your fingers tighten around his sharp undercut. he moans into your cunt, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body.

from then on, nanami kento always got an undercut.

[urfriendlywriter]

specific tropes in romance that always heal something in me that it never broke

like, forehead kisses, soft love confessions, peppering kisses all over the lover's face. promises that are kept, hands those are held with a gentle love, and hugs that engulf the heart too.

or when they rest their head on your chest, or lean on you for support.

"your tears kill me," kinda thing. or when a sunshine character finally cries and bawls their entire life's hurt out into their comfort grumpy character (plus point, if the grump feels guilty thinking if they had done something to trigger this emotional outburst)

communication. no matter hard the topic is, how big your differences are.

listening to the other person yap

admiring their facial features and seeing not just the outer structure but the person that they really are.

them getting angry on ur behalf

cradling each other in hugs basically

feeling emotional walls break when you're with that one person particularly

gentle communication. yearning to do more for your lover (!!!!)

affectionate smiles and eyes crinkling with a smile that's directed specially at you.

finding their laugh contagious.

the feeling of being accepted, despite flaws and all

silent domestic acts like being in the kitchen together, dressing up together, them drying ur hair while u sit between their legs

occasionally stolen kisses

or one deep kiss that just lights your world and fulfills your soul and heart.

sleepily nuzzling into each other!!

reaching for each other despite being asleep, with mumbled endearments and whispers of need!!!

laughter coming easily by their side, like happiness is just another day to day thing (this can also be about self love. when u truly love urself and prioritize your own rights and cherish the fact that you're you. happiness becomes beautiful even in solitude)

their fingers buried deep in yo- OOPS.?! :)

[softaestluv]

next | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ | toxic simon, fwb, mixed communication, a lil angst

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but when he is fucking you he doesn’t take his eyes off your face, drinks in every pretty reaction you give him when he’s tucked right against the spot he knows makes your lashes flutter and breath hitch.

‘That the spot? Yeah, baby? Look s’pretty under me.’

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but smiles at you because he can’t help it when your reactions are so cute, when you nod so pleased at him with pursed brows as you orgasm for the second time.

‘There we go, sweet girl. Gonna cum wrapped ‘round me?’

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but he doesn’t let you muffle any of your moans because you sound too fucking pretty whiny and breathy.

‘No, no, none of that, sweet’art. Wanna hear you, sound too pretty to hide it from me.’

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but tangles his fingers in yours the entire time, keeps your palms pressed together in any position, squeezing your hand through it.

‘I know, baby, I know. I got you.’

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but he’s possessive over you— ‘my, my, my.’

‘My pretty little dove.’ ‘My sweet girl.’ ‘All mine.’

And because he’s so cruel he makes you say it— ‘Only mine, yeah, baby? Wanna hear you say it.’

But still, after he’s done breaking you down and putting you back together piece by piece with such warm palms, soft eyes, and sugar-spun words he cleans you up before tucking himself back into his pants, and leaves you like it meant nothing to him until the next time he texts you for more.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki who breaks his sleep schedule ONLY on your birthday because he wants to be sure he’s the first one to text you.

at exactly midnight .on.the.dot. you get a string of messages from your boyfriend saying :

“happy birthday, moron.”

“i love you and all that stupid mushy shit”

“you better say it back. fucked up my sleep for you.”

“❤️”

he doesn’t even care if you’re already asleep, he’s already sure he was the very first one to text you but if you are still awake he’s even more proud cause you saw it happen. him who you (and his friends) tease all the time for going to sleep at like 8:30 sharp stayed up doing fuck all just to be the first to wish you a happy fucking birthday.

so yeah, you bet your ass he’s proud. and he’ll go to sleep and knock out immediately with a smirk on his face when you text him a “thank you sm, katsuki !!! i love you sosooososos much💕💕”

“yeah you better. go to bed, g’night <3”

n’ yeah okay, maybe he’ll be a bit crankier than usual, but it’ll be worth it seeing how bright you smile and jump to hug him, kissing all over his cheek with thank you’s and love you’s.

he’ll just take it out on kaminari.

[swearimnevergivingup]

so uh i'm thinking about ex-boyfriend!nanami. you broke up with him 3 years ago but he's never been able to move on. he's tried everything. everything under the sun, and none of it has ever worked.

he isn't even sure if forgetting you is what he wants. he thinks he wants to let you live in the spot carved out for you in his heart, whether that hurts him or not.

and when you run into him in the lobby of your apartment building? one thing leads to another and you find yourself splayed out on the couch obscenely, the oversized shirt you were wearing hiked up to your waist as you slowly part your legs for him.

the world blurs around you.

all you can think about is this very moment.

the significance of what you’re doing is entirely palpable to you. you’re inviting him in, not just to your house, but into your heart again. 

breathing heavily, your eyes follow his every movement in anticipation as his fingers dance across your inner thighs.

his hands slip underneath the waistband of your panties, two fingers sliding in between your slick folds. you tense a little at the sensation as he parts them, the rough pads of his fingers prodding the sensitive bud of nerves that makes you shiver and whine.

“god,” he groans. “i’ve fucking missed this pussy.”

you let out a little laugh at the foul language that slips from his tongue. it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice, and even longer since you’ve felt his touch.

“missed your cock too, kento,” you murmur, eager to show that you’ve been equally longing for him, if not more. you want to hear more of him, so you reach your hand out to palm at his erection. he’s rock hard, and there’s a little wet spot on his pants from the precum.

“fuck,” he mutters, tilting his head back. “it’s been a while.”

you giggle at that, a little woozy from the wine. “it’s been a while for me too.”

“n-no, you don’t understand,” his grip on your hips tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure. “you were the last.”

oh.

your eyes widen at that revelation, stopping your movements to fully look at him. “w-why haven’t you—”

for the second time tonight, you find yourself in complete disbelief. you were the last person he slept with? that had been more than 2 years ago - way more than enough time for things to change, for someone else to come along.

but then again, nanami’s always been a serious man, and by extension, that applied to his love life too. never one to seek out casual hookups, that man dated to marry. 

“i didn’t want anyone else. only you,” he murmurs. “that hasn’t changed.”

your heart is not the only thing that clenches at the raw sincerity in his voice. 

“say it again,” you whisper. “i want— i want to hear you say it again.”

“i only want you.” nanami must have realised how much you needed to hear that, the same way he had needed your confirmation earlier, because his voice is more resolute this time. “and this—” his hand moves to cup yours, guiding your movements as he slowly drags your hand over his cock. “s’all for you, sweetheart.”

one hand reaches for the back of your neck, holding you tenderly as he peppers kisses on your lips and all over your neck.

the other hand, though, moves deviously between your thighs, a singular digit plunging into your soaked cunt. 

nanami relishes the way you gasp into his mouth, back arching off the couch as all sorts of pretty sounds drip from your flushed lips.

i love you.

i still love you, after all this time.

he doesn’t say it out loud - no, it isn’t the right time. 

but he repeats it loudly enough inside his head, hoping that somehow, you might hear it too. 

a/n: this is part of my upcoming work: i never moved from where you left me (nsfw)

there are apologies to be made, lost time to reclaim, and parts of each other waiting to be rediscovered. and yet, you know him like an old song. you know the words, carved into the lining of your skin, you know its melody, a soft hum that echoes in the chambers of your heart. nanami kento is that lingering rhythm, that pained harmony, existing deep within the cracks of memory and longing - an unfading symphony in your soul.

comment if you would like to be tagged! <3

edit: some snippets here! taglist closed :)

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.