it turned to smut in seconds, i cannot control my own hands, ok. 18+ (implication of breeding kink or something and simon's a jealous boy)
ex-husband simon who signed the divorce papers without a fight. it'd stung, you're not gonna lie, but it needed to be done and the fact that he didn't make a big fuss about it made things easier for you physically. (emotionally you were in shambles because did he not even want to try and fight for you?)
he comes over only on the weekends when he's on leave.
he's a good father to his boys. he takes them to their softball games when he can, buys them the ice cream and takes them toy shopping.
and then there's a sharp knock at your door on a wednesday afternoon.
"simon?"
he walks in like he owns the place, which technically he does- even pays the mortgage because there's no way you would be able to afford living here with your own measly income.
"what's this the boys are tellin' me 'bout a man bein' in here?" his voice is calm, steady. but you know simon better than you know yourself, and he's furious.
"i- i'm not sure-" he swipes his hand in the air and your mouth clicks shut.
"don't lie t'me, poppet, or i'll be findin' him myself an' you really don't want tha'."
what man? there hasn't been any since the divorce! you're digging through your memories, scrambling to find what the hell he's talking about when-
"oh! it's the plumber!" you take steadying breath. "i called a plumber on sunday. i needed the kitchen sink fixed."
his dark eyes are piercing, so sharp they could cut. simon's always been a walking lie detector, and it's unnerving to be on the opposite end of that analyzing stare.
he nods imperceptibly, then flicks his gaze to behind you, over your head. "show me."
you scoff indignantly. "show you what? the bloody sink?"
simon wordlessly heads to the kitchen and his knees pop as he kneels-
he's actually checking the fucking sink.
with a grunt, he leans his head into the cabinet and twist awkwardly which is no doubt causing a familiar pain to flare up in his lower back. you can't help but wince in sympathy.
lo and behold, there's a shiny, white elbow in the middle of the rest of the dirty, scratched pipe.
he hums, and rises to his feet, closing the cabinet with his leg.
simon approaches you slowly, fingertips touching the kitchen island as he rounds it. "palms flat on the counter, sweetheart."
oh. oh you know exactly what that means, and your pussy throbs almost in reflex. months without his touch and your body still responds the same.
your protest already at the tip of your tongue, almost involuntarily because principles, but he sees right through you, as he's always done.
"jus' a reward for all o' your hard work. takin' care o' the boys is a stressful job all on its own." his worn hand cups the underside of your jaw tenderly. "aren't i always good t'ya?"
your exhales are weak, just like your resolve. "okay."
simon's eyes glint with satisfaction as he lifts his hand, index pointing upwards and twirls it in a slow, deliberate motion.
your palms are flat on the counter when he curls his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and knickers, tugging them downward.
they're flat on the counter when he lowers himself to his knees and taps the inside of your foot, indicating you to widen your stance.
they're curled into fists when his breath puffs against your slick cunt and his warm tongue slides through your folds, drawing lazy circles around your bud. a tingle of arousal shoots up your spine, his mouth sparking a fire right under your navel.
they're reaching for simon, nails sinking into the delicate skin of his wrist as your back bows when you come on his tongue, vision spotted with black, blurry dots and white hot ecstasy coursing through your veins.
your hands are now crossed at the base of your spine, your cheek pressing into the cool kitchen counter as he bends you over it.
"15 minutes before the boys are home from school. tha's plenty o'time, yeah?"
a rhetorical, if you've ever heard one.
your knuckles stain white as you clench your fists at the heavy, hot weight of his manhood stretching your walls to take him in, a sweet burn that you've always loved. he's gentle but sure, bottoming out in one smooth stroke that pushes the air out of your lungs. the sibilant hiss simon lets out is never fails to elicit a whimper out of you.
"fuck," he groans. "i could stay inside this pretty pussy forever."
and the dirty talk. how much you've missed it.
"would you like tha', pet? be inside of ya til you don't know where i end and you begin?"
a garbled mhm slips past your lips. your head already empty at just the sensation of being so unbearably full that it feels like you're tearing at the seams.
"another time, then, since the kids'll be home soon."
he begins to move, shallow but firm thrusts that drag his cock along your nerves deliciously- a sure fire way of getting you to climax around him in minutes.
your walls begin to squeeze down as the knot in your stomach tightens, and he lets go of your wrists, looping an arm around your waist and straightens you- his broad chest to your much smaller back.
his clever fingers wind downwards, and rub precise, little circles on your slippery clit, and it's all too much, you're hurtling toward the precipice at neck break speed- "god, simon, please-"
his pace never falters, not his hips nor his fingers as your moans begin to rise in pitch. "i'll get ya there, love."
he does, he gets you to your highest peak- blindingly intense- one that chokes the very breath out of you and slackens your knees. "i've got ya."
there's no strength left in you to brace for the spine-jarring thrusts he gives after, the only thing keeping you from sprawling forward is the arm that's looped around you as he pulls you to him.
"on anything?" he rumbles.
your ears ring at that because he can't possibly- your head shakes unbidden.
"good."
the last four thrusts are heavy, backed by his weight, and he smothers a loud groan into the junction of your shoulder as he finishes inside of you- thick, viscous cum filling you until it begins to drip and fall to the floor with an audible plop.
he presses tender little kisses to your sweaty shoulder and nips the side of your neck. "just in time."
the clock on the stove says 5 minutes before the bus gets there.
he helps you redress, chuckling under his breath when you won't look him in the eye. "i'll get the kids, go get cleaned up."
the knot in your chest loosens when you hear the boys' laughter at seeing their father on the driveway. it loosens when simon picks both of them up, one in each arm, and glances up at you as you look down at them from the window.
heat licks up your cheeks when he gives you a smarmy little grin.
idiot.
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PRETTIEST BABY—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦
✎. they can't help it, they're kind of obsessed with you. | wc. 2k+
tags. fem!reader, thigh riding, slight food play, unprotected sex, mating press, spit play, object insertion, oral sex, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]
featuring. nanami, sukuna, choso, gojo & geto
an. dividers by @/hitobaby | masterlist
↬ NANAMI
You don’t hear him when he walks in, too busy dancing around his kitchen to a song playing on the radio in that short sundress that always makes his pants feel tight. But at the sound of him setting his keys and briefcase down on the counter, you turn and give him a pretty little smile.
“Hey, I just put the kids down for a nap.” You pop a dollop of cream into your mouth from the bowl you’re holding. “How was work?”
Nanami can’t think straight enough to answer, too busy staring at your cheeks, how they suck in around your finger, and the sound of your hum when the sugar hits your tongue. The sound has him thinking about you humming like that around his cock, or wondering if you’d tease the purpling head the way you’re licking your finger.
He shouldn’t be thinking it at all—not when the babysitter should be here any minute to watch the boys.
But he can’t help it.
When you pull your finger out of your mouth, you have just enough time to squeak before his hand is palming the back of your head, and his lips come crashing down against yours.
He groans into your mouth, his hands carding down your sides before finding purchase at your hips to bunch in the skirt of your dress. You release the most adorable gasp when he picks you up, carrying you across the kitchen to sit in one of the dining chairs; his hold keeps you from falling off his lap as your legs drop from behind his back to around his thighs clumsily.
Nanami’s hands slide up from the swell of your hips until they cup your breasts, his thumb circling a nipple reverently.
“Prettiest tits,” he mumbles to himself.
You moan louder than you should with the kids right down the hall, your fingers flexing around his shoulders. “Oh!”
“Shh, honey,” he smiles faintly, pressing kisses against your open, panting mouth. “Don’t want to wake the kids.”
His thumbs brush against your nipples through your dress, his hands spanning almost the entire width of your rib cage. You shiver from how the fabric of your bralette and dress rub against sensitive, pebbling skin, creating an electric pulse with every pass that travels down to where you’re aching and empty.
You bury your face in his neck, rolling your hips over the hardness in his neatly pressed dress pants.
“Do you think you cum for me like this, sweetheart?” His lips move along your jaw, a distraction that makes your head fuzzy. But you still hear him, and your thighs clench around him in anticipation—a delicious sort of ache tingling up your spine with a subtle thrust of his hips against yours.
“I—ah—don’t think—not like this.”
“I think you can,” he coos, nosing at your neck, pressing another kiss there. “Come on, be a good little wife and cum for me.”
Oh, god. You’re going to cum from this—maybe from the filth dripping from your husband’s tongue alone.
Your thighs are slippery. You can feel it every time Nanami helps you roll your hips against him, and a sticky-hot heat swirls in your abdomen, moving all the way down to your curling toes. Your heart stutters in your chest to keep up with your rapid puffs of breath into his mouth.
You’re going to…You’re really going to—
His fingers twist your nipple, and like a switch, your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and you’re shaking in his lap. Nanami helps you move against him to ease you through it, whispering tiny indiscernible praises through the fog of syrupy bliss.
“So good for me.” You hear a zipper coming undone as your head slowly clears. “You can be good for me a little longer, and try to give me another, okay?”
↬ SUKUNA
He asks you to stay the night after he gets home late from a busy day at the gym—his clothes rumpled and hair sticking every which way. You get a little flustered at the thought of sleeping under the same roof as the stupidly attractive father to the kid you babysit, and you try to politely decline by saying, “I shouldn’t.”
“I can’t let you walk home in the dark,” he says, sounding just a tad tired as he heats up leftovers in the microwave. “Plus, Hana was disappointed when she found out you leave every night.”
“Really?” Hesitant, safe.
A little grin spreads across his face, making your breath stutter in your chest. “Yeah. Imagine how excited she’ll be when she finds you here in the morning.”
You bite your lip, already thinking about it. She is a sweet kid…
“If it’s…If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Cross my heart,” he tells you.
It’s surreal to think saying yes leads to him fucking you into his super soft king-sized mattress an hour later—you and Sukuna were never supposed to be a sweet mix of limbs and hot pants into each other’s mouths, and yet, here you are. If you’d known this would happen from wearing his clothes, you would have done it months ago.
He has two thick fingers pressed against your tongue to muffle your moans, the way you slightly gag around them sounding so much louder in your ears than the noises he’s trying to keep quiet. Your cunt feels swollen and sensitive just from him notching the head of his cock inside, only aided by the rough swipe of his thumb against your clit.
It’s already the most you’ve ever let any man do—no condom, nothing but slick skin—reasonable, responsible words turning to smoke with another inch inside you.
“Look at you,” he groans, a large hand covering the small impression of his dick pressing up against your belly. “So fucking tiny, I hardly fit.”
But he does fit, slipping in the last half inch, his thighs touching the back of yours, his fingers sliding a little deeper down your throat. The sudden need to get air into your lungs distracts you from the uncomfortable stretch between your thighs.
“Fuck, baby. Took me—ah—took me like a champ.” His breathing is labored, his voice rough. “How about a little more, okay?”
All you can do is nod, teary-eyed, whimpering.
When his fingers leave your mouth to palm the back of your thighs, you can’t control the too-loud whine that escapes your raw throat—high-pitched and surely reaching beyond his bedroom door. His shoulders press your legs further into your chest, making you feel smaller than you already are underneath his broad shoulders, and he brings his hand back up to your mouth to cover the moans you can’t hold in.
“Be quiet—so fucking tight, needed this—and let me fuck this toy cunt.”
↬ CHOSO
“Come on, baby, you can do it,” you tell the little boy, trying to make his way from the back steps to you sitting in the grass.
Choso watches from the porch, sucking on a lollipop as you play in the yard with his son. You hadn’t expected him to come home for a few more hours, and it’s hard not to look over at him, your cheeks hot from the amount of attention on you.
Neither of you spends much time together outside of a few pleasantries before and after work, asking about each other's day, him asking if Yuji was good for you—he always is—before you go home.
Then, one drunken night, you’d ruined everything by accidentally sending a nude to him (your boss, no less). Now, he hardly says a word to you; no, you leave in a rush—hair in your face, coat hanging off an arm—before he can open his mouth.
But Choso coming home right around Yuji’s naptime (he’s never home this early) is about to change that.
“So,” you start to say after setting the baby monitor down and curling up on the couch, “have you gone to that new Thai place down the street?”
“It’s down the street. Of course, I have.” He crosses the room, almost looking like a predator with the way he stalks towards you.
“Oh—”
In a matter of seconds, Choso easily has you pinned underneath him like a butterfly, the skirt of your dress pooling up around your waist. Your head spins from the proximity, chest heaving when he moves down, down—-
He lays on his stomach between your legs, carefully wrenching your soaked panties to the side to expose your cunt. Drenched and vulnerable on his couch, your thighs tremble as he parts your folds with his thumbs to reveal the wet, clenching part of you that’s suddenly desperate for his touch.
“You’re messy down here,” he hums, popping his sucker out of his mouth to spit against your folds. “Drippy.”
The melted red sugary confection drips from his mouth onto your clit before ducking his head to swipe his tongue through your slit, slurping up the mess he made.
“Choso—oh!”
Your hands fly to his hair, messing up the bun he has it in, and he groans into your cunt. It makes the muscles in your stomach jump, and you tip your head back against the arm of the couch. The noises he pulls from your throat are embarrassing, whimpers and moans that make you sound as desperate as you feel.
“Knew you’d taste sweet ever since you sent that picture of this pretty pussy.”
Another cry flies from your lips when he pushes the sucker inside you, and one of your hands comes up to cover your mouth, trying not to wake the baby—you don’t want this to end before it’s even really started.
“You look so cute spread out like this, letting me play with you like you’re mine.”
Then he suctions his soft lips over your clit, and your vision goes white.
↬ GOJO & GETO
You hadn't meant to interrupt your husband while he was in a meeting with Gojo. But it’d been important at the time—a reminder of an upcoming appointment that he forgot to mark on the calendar. Your daughter needed it for school.
Now you’re wondering if it could have waited—and at the same time, you’re glad you didn’t.
"Look at you, taking cock like a bitch in heat," Geto sneers down at you where you're sprawled out against the expensive leather couch in his office, mean fingers roughly tweaking your sensitive nipples raw through your sheer bra. "Couldn't wait for me to come home, huh?”
You whine around Gojo’s cock that’s currently stealing the air from your chest, his grip tight in your hair to keep you from pulling away.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, a grin on his lips. “Didn’t think your wife would be a good little cocksucker?”
You’re tacky-wet and sticky between your legs, staining Geto’s expensive pants, creating a large dark spot on the fabric below where his hips kiss the back of yours with every harsh thrust into you.
A distressed mewl leaves your lips when he reaches down to thumb at your clit. "Please," your voice cracks, garbled consonants, and vowels barely making sense on your tongue—overstimulated tears leaking past your hairline and onto the cushion under you.
“Shit, baby—” Gojo groans, practically fucking your face—a stark contrast from how Geto steadily presses in you. It makes you dizzy. “You keep whining like that, and you’re going to make me cum.”
Sweaty strands of hair cling to your temples as you writh underneath the two imposing men determined to ruin you. You feel like an exposed nerve—a tender bruise before it blooms—desperately chasing a release just out of your reach because Geto refuses to give it to you.
You don't stop yourself from bringing your fingers down to where he sinks into your slippery heat, hoping he'd just give in and fuck you how you want.
He scoffs but doesn't push your hand away. "Did I say you could touch my cock?"
You try moaning a response, only to have Gojo’s hips stutter into your mouth, a guttural sound releasing from his throat.
"But you're a slut for my cock, aren't you? Can't keep your—fuck—hands off it." You don't even answer, can't when the feeling of sticky ropes of cum paint your throat, making all the words stick to the back of your tongue—your mouth quivering as you remember to inhale through your nose.
Geto’s resolve slowly crumbles when you clench around his cock, his hips needily pressing into yours with a grunt. "Shit, princess, just like that. My messy, drooling slut."
Just when Gojo slips from your mouth, Geto starts pounding into you, making you squeal hoarsely and arch up into his firm chest. "Aah, yes! F-feels good!"
He brings the wide pad of his thumb up to your hot cheeks and wipes away the fresh set of tears collecting along your lash line. "C'mon, baby. Stop your crying and cum. Milk my cock with this greedy pussy of yours."
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