unhinged-reader-36

[unhinged-reader-36]

ᓚᘏ𑄝 simon ghost riley steals your panties n jacks off to it alone.

he’s been hard all day.

because of you, because of your panties.

ghost had stolen them from the pile of your laundry that morning. very quiet, methodical, already rock fucking hard under his gear while you chatted with Soap in the hallway. they were still warm when he tucked them in his vest, right near his chest, like some kind of twisted souvenir.

he could smell you every time he moved, and it was so addictive. he’d been leaking into his briefs for hours. barely listening to comms sent to him, distracted by the twitch and tightness of his pants. he is irritated. needy.

but now it’s dark and the base is quiet and the door is locked.

ghost sighs a heavy ‘finally.’

he peels his gloves off with shaking fingers, like he’s nervous. but no, this man is not nervous, he is fucking starved. he hasn’t even taken off his gear. he just collapses onto the bed, large hands unzippering, his cock already pulled out, flushed dark and angry with need. fat head, veins thick, leaking like it’s crying for you.

“fuckin’—bloody hell…”

his voice is low, hoarse. gravel dragged over lust. the scent of your cunt—sweet, soft, tangy with the faintest trace of sweat—makes his whole body react like it’s under fire. his cock jumps, drools precum, twitches like it’s begging to be inside you.

and he brings your panties up to his face like he’s worshipping them. taking a deep breath, like he’s trying not to fall apart.

he holds the panties by the crotch and presses them to his covered nose. sucks in a deep breath onto the fabric slow, lets the scent, your scent, spread over him like an inhaler. it’s so much worse than he imagined. so much better. pure filth.

you’d worn these all day. he can tell. the gusset’s still damp. the scent is strong. your heat’s in the threads. you’d been sitting in briefings, leaning over tables, laughing with your tongue between your teeth and the whole time, this soft little piece of cotton had been right between your thighs, soaking up every fucking thing.

and now it’s his.

he pumps his cock slowly at first, teasing. every drag of his palm makes him groan. he’s so sensitive it hurts, but he doesn’t stop. he won’t. his hips lift into his hand automatically, brain fogged, eyes rolling under the mask. he rubs the panties over his slit, lets them smear his precum around like you’re touching him, like your mouth is there, teasing.

“you’ve no fuckin’ idea,” he mutters under his breath. “walkin’ around like that. smellin’ like that. wearin’ this…”

he clenches his jaw tight, using it as a distraction for him not to lose it too fast, but it’s useless. he’s already dizzy.

he thinks about the way your thighs press together when you sit. the way your gym shorts ride up when you stretch. he thinks about burying his face between your legs until you sob. sucking on your clit until your thighs tremble and you have to beg him to stop.

his cock is dripping. leaking so much it’s stringing down his fist.

he starts fucking up into his hand, panting now, fast, brutal strokes, using your panties like a rag to rub all over his shaft. the crotch is soaked now. between your slick and his precum, it’s dripping, slick sounds echoing in the room, lewd and loud.

his mind’s not even here anymore. it’s all you. your moans. your scent. the idea of your soaked cunt riding his face. the image of you bending over in those same panties, innocent, soft, warm and never knowing how he came on them the night before.

his stomach tenses. his toned thighs flexing with every drag across his bulbs tip.. he chokes on a curse and thrusts hard into his fist.

and he explodes.

cum spurts from his cock in thick, hot jets, too much. his whole body jolts. he keeps stroking through it, rough and messy, gasping like he’s dying. your panties are ruined. stained, soaked, sticky with his release. it’s everywhere. his abs, his hand, his thighs. and the whole time he stares at them, eyes wide, chest heaving, obsessed.

he holds them to his face again. smells you through the mess. it makes him groan, overstimulated and desperate, his cock still twitching against his belly. he thinks about stuffing them back into your drawer like that. unwashed, wet, sticky. marked.

he knows he shouldn’t.

he knows he will.

[unhinged-reader-36]

That nonsexual intimacy of just being in each other's spaces, of gravitating towards each other, always subconsciously reaching out to each other. Finding comfort and satisfaction in being close to each other, breathing each other in, existing together.

[unhinged-reader-36]

thinking about fucking your lieutenant but now he won't leave you alone. (18+)

you thought he'd want to keep it a secret. ghost is the most quiet, secretive, mysterious man you know. he won't even eat in the same room as you to avoid showing you any part of his face.

you don't really know why it happened. you suppose, at the end of the day, ghost is just the kind of man you always gravitate towards—off-putting, angry, sarcastically nasty with the thickest thighs and an eager tongue. he's big all-over, and that might just be your weakness. big hands, pudgy stomach, long legs, perfect cock—the kind that stretches your insides and makes your tummy feel full.

ghost is mean, though. he doesn't play favorites. you've seen others try to get on his good side, try to kiss his ass, but he has none of it. he doesn't give anyone special treatment, and you don't expect it from him now. you don't expect him to even acknowledge you. you let him come inside of you, but that doesn't mean he won't make you run laps or drop and give him an agonizing amount of push-ups.

when you leave his room, you keep your mouth shut. you expect nothing but his back.

color you surprised when a whole group of people stop talking while you're sitting with them. your head in your hands, coffee cooling in front of you, and suddenly the lively table is clearing their throats and looking anywhere but up. when you turn your head, ghost is standing there, staring at you like a hungry animal.

he makes you stay behind after drills. corners you into closets, shoves you behind walls. you're so swept up in the butterflies as he hoists you up against the wall that you don't remember which round it is that day—can't get enough o'me, can ya?

but you don't expect the display. you're running through your demolitions training, soap at your side, and when you manage to untangle the wires and solder a few pieces together successfully, you were not expecting the heat at your back coming to praise you. the grip on your neck, the pull on you until your head snaps back, and then the hard kiss through the mask.

the most embarrassing part is soap who just grins like he expected it. like he knows a secret about you that you didn't even know yourself. when ghost pulls back, dark eyes lidded and heavy, you nearly fall through the floor when he kisses his teeth under the mask and mumbles the most diabolical, "tha's a good girl, int'she, johnny?"

ghost doesn't want to keep it quiet. ghost doesn't want to keep you a secret. in fact, ghost grabs your ass right in front of his captain, thick gloved hand in the back pocket of your cargoes that squeezes so hard, you squeak audibly in the mess hall line.

it makes other soldiers angry—so she gets special treatment cause she opened her fucking legs? it makes others jealous—why is she the only one that gets to have a piece? it makes a small number morbidly curious—what does she have that's good enough to come back for?

it doesn't matter what they say. it doesn't matter what they think. it doesn't matter if they hate you or want to be you or want to kill you. lieutenant simon "ghost" riley has all but claimed you, and that means no one puts a hand on you unless they want to lose it.

"why me?"

it's a simple question, but why is it so difficult?

you have such sad eyes. all wet, lips trembling. you're frustrated. did ghost know the implications of being less than discreet? did he know how people would treat you when they knew you let your lieutenant into your bed and kept him there? did he realize that parading you around like this would only make things worse?

"no one looks at me," ghost says. he says it with his face against the line of your jaw. he says it with his cock still inside of you, cum leaking down your thighs as he pulls out just to fuck himself back in to keep it there.

but you do, is what he doesn't say, and you know it, and it makes the butterflies turn into an ache, one that slips around your heart and tugs it low.

it makes you feel new again. it feels good.

so when a private with too much ego spits at your feet, you don't flinch—"i don't take orders from ghost's bitch."

he brushes a thumb across your cheek, touching where the bruising is starting to bloom. skeleton glove tracing a line down your face, over the split in your lip, over the bleeding cut across your brow.

"you give it back?" ghost asks. he leans down, crowding your space, forehead nearly against yours. you nod, lifting your hand, putting a hand on his wrist as he rubs his thumb across your bottom lip. "he broken?"

"fought a little dirty," you mumble, blinking up at him. you remember the look on the guy's face when the metal folding chair came flying towards his face. "but he had a mouth on him."

"'n 'ow is he now?"

"eating through a straw, sir."

ghost nearly purrs. it must take an enormous amount of self-discipline for him not to force you to bend over—he's done it for less, in more public places, but he's looking at you now, and you wonder if he loves you.

you wonder if he's capable of that.

[unhinged-reader-36]

✦ husband!sukuna comes home with a brandished bruise

“Neither of us are leaving this room until you tell me how you got that.”

He only grunted in response, a huff of irritation as you blocked the door with your frame, your eyes glued on his where he was sporting a new shiner.

He knew you hated fighting—swore he’d stop once he’d gotten you all to himself. So for you to see a blotchy bruise coloring his cheek…?

“Ryomen Sukuna.” 

His averted gaze now flickered to yours, crimson orbs flashing with vexation at the use of his full name. No Ryo, no ‘Kuna. 

Full. Government. Name.

His jaw clenched under the grating pressure of his molars shifting like tectonic plates with a personal vengeance. He pawed at his chest, itching the skin beneath his milky white beater before backing away. “Some jackass at the bar had a mouth on him,” he muttered like a kid scolded.

You placed your hands on your hips, cocking your head ever so slightly, not uttering a word until he elaborated.

And his scowl was so deep, you feared that the tightly etched lines marking his face would be as permanent as the thick black tattoos adorning him. 

He continued at your silence.

“Said he slept with you back in college,” he mumbled, now tearing his gaze from you and fixing it on a houseplant like it was the most intriguing thing in the world.

“...And?” You pressed on, eyes narrowing at his lack of enlightenment. 

“And?” He blustered loud enough for you to feel the vibrations rattle through your bones. “What? You think imma sit there and listen to that piece of crock shit blab on ‘bout my wife?”

You parted your lips, about to respond, before you dropped your gaze on the floor, doing your best to conceal the minute smirk playing on your lips.

So that’s how he got it.

“I see,” you muttered beneath your breath.

And Sukuna felt like he’d been licked by flames at your solemn tone, body tensing.

Were you really this mad? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

What else was he supposed to do? As long as he’s around, no one can utter a word about his darling girl.

“Baby,” he whispered, taking a wary step towards you and opening his arms. “Look, I ain’t good with words, but you’re my wife. And I’ll do anything to protect you. That includes your reputation,” he whispered, calloused hands now encircling your biceps and squeezing gently. “Hm? Where’s my pretty girl?” He whispered, still hesitant as your body stilled.

And in a flash, you were bringing a hand up to smack his chest—not enough to hurt the formidable man but enough to shock him wide-eyed. “You idiot. You know you’re gonna be the death of me? What if there had been a cop or—.”

At the discernment of your worried tone rather than enraged, a smirk tugged at Sukuna’s lips before he leaned down to crash his lips against yours and effectively shutting you up.

Your body always managed to respond to your husbands, lashes fluttering shut as a small whimper left your parted lips.

“There she is.”

[unhinged-reader-36]

policeofficer!toji who is tailing you the second he sees your cute little Volkswagen Beetle convertible buzz down the street. He doesn’t do anything because he can’t. You obeyed the speed limit like a grandma and still used your blinker and everything, even though you were the only one on the dimly lit streets.

policeofficer!toji who eventually pulls you over when you went seven over the speed limit while dodging a pothole as another car was approaching, conveniently enough.

policeofficer!toji who asks, “Do you know why I pulled you over, sweet thing?” To which you calmly responded, “I’m not sure.”

"Well, you were speeding, little lady. Could I see your license and registration, please?”

You squinted at him suspiciously but complied, “Sure.”

You sat in your car waiting for him to come back after searching you up and making sure everything was valid. "Looks like everything is good, honeybun. Don't let me catch you disobeying the law again, alright?"

"I think it's you who's disobeying the law right now. Going seven miles per hour over isn't high enough to be pulled over in this jurisdiction," you informed him.

"Well, I was going to let you go scott free, but since you're being so defensive ... step out of your vehicle, ma'am,” he commanded giving you a suspicious look.

You gave him a look but silently complied, smiling to yourself.

policeofficer!toji had all your car doors open as well as your trunk. After doing a very not thorough check, he had you put your hand on your vehicle.

He started patting down your legs first. Which was odd because it definitely wasn't protocol, and you were literally wearing a pencil skirt and a blouse; your blazer was sitting in your passenger seat. There was nowhere you could’ve hid any contraband with how tight your work outfit was. His rough hands slide up your soft, freshly waxed legs. They dragged up to your ass and groped you for a bit.

“Is this protocol sir?” you questioned with a smirk. His mouth was right next to your ear. He groaned, and you could feel the hot air that left his mouth in your ear.

"Hmm,” he hummed, “What's for dinner tonight, ma?" he asked, "Hopefully, you."

You laughed. "Must you do this in public, Toji?"

"Yeah, I know you like it."

He wasn't wrong. The street were empty and you were rubbing you thighs togther as his hands moved up to your tits. "Got anything in here, hmm?" he hummed as he started humping you.

You couldn't reply. Just whined. A light turned on in the house he pulled you over in front of, and he immediately stopped backing away from you, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.

"Oh my god, Toji! You're going to get a complaint. It totally looks like we were fucking from the angle of that window!" you panicked.

Toji started full-bellied laughing. "Take a closer look at the house, baby," he barely choked out.

It was Shiu's fuckin' house. The cheif of the police department just watched you dry hump and semi-role play with your husband. You silently hoped the earth would swallow you whole.

You heard the window open and Shiu calling out, "Fuck you, Fushiguro. Keep the sirens down, idiot!"

He only laughed in response. "Sorry, Shiu! You have a good night!" you called out.

He let out a dismissive "Yeah, yeah, whatever" before slamming his window shut. You winced and leaned against your car, letting out an exasperated sigh. You were now horny and maybe in bad graces with Toji's boss if you didnt bring over a pie within in this next two days.

"Don't mind that lonely grump. It's all cool, mama," Toji smiled.

"Is it?"

"Yeah, promise," he said, before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"See you at home, baby. Gotta go turn in my car," he called out, waving.

"See ya! Love ya!" you called out.

"Oh, and babe, I'll take care of ya at home, I know you're thinkin' about it," he smirked.

[unhinged-reader-36]

sugar!daddy simon, who can’t help but love your pussy as much as you love his money

you inspect, turning your hand over in something of disgust. nails grown out in a months retention, desperate to be cleaned up with a fresh new set. the deep red, inches from your untrimmed cuticle. it has you rolling your eyes, has your lips jutting in an sweet pout as your run the very hand through the thick of his dusty blonde hair.

“need a manicure, si,” you puff in a heightened whine. your not even paying him any mind, bringing your other hand to your face to flick at edges of your smooth acrylic, rolling your eyes at the soft chips round the lip of the nail.

“whatever you want, baby,” he’s speaking against the slick of your pussy, smoothing his tongue over you before he’s sucking the pretty bud of your clit into his mouth again, smoothing his tongue before flicking and playing round with you.

“maybe that new bag? y’know how much i love my pink bags.” and you’re giggling, pressing your toes into his shoulder blades. and simon does know in fact, with the countless other ones he’s bought you, there’s a few collecting dust, ones you’d never even touched, only looked over.

“anything you want, it’s yours, bunny.” and he’s practically speaking to your drooling cunt at this point, hand curling around the soft arch of your pretty foot. dipping his thumb into the bow, just to hear that soft giggle and giddy moan.

he’s letting his teeth clip, biting gently and pressing his nose into you, heady with the breaths of you. he’s practically dizzy of your sweet pussy, and you pay him no mind, only a few tugs at his hair, only gentle breaths. you’re practically shooing him away, and he loves it, it makes him work his tongue faster, eating at your pussy like some starved man.

spit drips from his lips as more demands spill from yours. it shouldn’t get him off, the way you want to spend all of his money, the way you practically use him completely. making him burrow his face in your glossy pussy, making him spend thousands, but he gets off on it. he likes being used, he likes the way you demand from him. and if he can provide, why not?

mmm okay i hate it but whatever enjoy loves

[unhinged-reader-36]

i can’t get out of my head simon’s thick hands holding your thighs apart, spreading you out and open with his body towering over you. shoving his thick cock into you so slowly as you whine and writhe beneath him because he’s too big.

“s’lright, doll. ya’ knew i was big. th’s shouldn’t be a surprise to ya’.”

all while it feels like he’s tearing your pussy part from how thick and long he is. pussy pulsing and fighting against the intrusion and also desperately sucking him deeper.

“jus’ relax, love. let me in. let daddy in hmm.”

[unhinged-reader-36]

HAPPY IDES OF MARCH!!! STAB STAB STAB STAB!!!!

[unhinged-reader-36]

MDNI

not developed idea at all but thinking about Ghost torturing some crime lord or other and he’s using the man’s wife as leverage. Gun to her head as she cries and shakes, tied up on the floor of the concrete room, begging her husband to help her.

Ghost gives the man a choice; his life, or hers. His lip curls beneath the mask when the man chooses his own life.

“Shouldn’t treat y’wife that way.” He says coldly. “Bad for you, yeah? Happy wife, and all that.”

The bullet lands exactly where he means it to go; between the bloke’s eyes. Blood trickles down his forehead, body slackens in the restraints holding him. The pretty thing on the floor screams. Thrashes and thumps her tied wrists off his legs while she curses him out.

“Thank you wouldn’t hurt,” he rumbles dryly. “Would’ve been you if your man had his way. Up you get, c’mon.”

He pulls her to her feet, brushes her down with lingering hands. Smooths over her hair and thumbs away the tears. The mask shifts, like he’s frowning.

“Calm down, y’fine. Not going to shoot you.” He doesn’t trust her to walk alongside him nicely, so he lifts her over his shoulder with a pat to her arse. “Alright, ‘bout time we get you home. Spare rooms a tip so we’ll be sharing the bed, mind.”

[unhinged-reader-36]

MDNI

not developed idea at all but thinking about Ghost torturing some crime lord or other and he’s using the man’s wife as leverage. Gun to her head as she cries and shakes, tied up on the floor of the concrete room, begging her husband to help her.

Ghost gives the man a choice; his life, or hers. His lip curls beneath the mask when the man chooses his own life.

“Shouldn’t treat y’wife that way.” He says coldly. “Bad for you, yeah? Happy wife, and all that.”

The bullet lands exactly where he means it to go; between the bloke’s eyes. Blood trickles down his forehead, body slackens in the restraints holding him. The pretty thing on the floor screams. Thrashes and thumps her tied wrists off his legs while she curses him out.

“Thank you wouldn’t hurt,” he rumbles dryly. “Would’ve been you if your man had his way. Up you get, c’mon.”

He pulls her to her feet, brushes her down with lingering hands. Smooths over her hair and thumbs away the tears. The mask shifts, like he’s frowning.

“Calm down, y’fine. Not going to shoot you.” He doesn’t trust her to walk alongside him nicely, so he lifts her over his shoulder with a pat to her arse. “Alright, ‘bout time we get you home. Spare rooms a tip so we’ll be sharing the bed, mind.”

[unhinged-reader-36]

im quitting tumblr

[unhinged-reader-36]

Would mob ever get insecure and in her head about what if she wasnt what Simon was expecting or what if he prefers another body type? Looking for comfort 🧎🏻‍♀️

mail-order bride

it's a strange thing to look in the mirror and not feel like yourself. there's something staring back, but you don't recognize the reflection. it's so distant, just on the other side of something. when you slide your hand over your shoulder, you hate that she follows you, mimicking your movements--you don't know her, this isn't you.

your eyes catch on the sparkle of the diamond on your finger. you look down, spreading your fingers out, and even in the ugly light of the bathroom, the diamond beams up at you. it's crystal clear, of fine quality (because simon wouldn't have his wife wearing any less), and you thumb at the strong band of it as you watch it catch the light in different angles.

it's so beautiful. it's hard to believe that it's yours, but he had given it to you on the first night, no hesitation. something to bind you two physically, even though you were certain you were tied together even without it.

you hear your name being called. you turn the bathroom light off and make your way back into the bedroom, where simon is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the cat up, not amused as she holds one of his dirty socks in her mouth.

"wot the fuck?" simon growls, and when you smile a little, it doesn't reach your eyes. simon rips the sock out of her little mouth easily, setting her down, realizing something is wrong almost immediately. he clears his throat, standing up. "wot happened? are ya olright?"

you meet his eyes.

"you'd...you'd tell me if this wasn't what you wanted...right?" you ask softly. he tilts his head to the side, narrowing them in thought. "if you realized you didn't want me. if...if i wasn't what you expected...you'd tell me, wouldn't you? b-because...b-because i think we'd be...miserable if you...if we didn't like each other--"

simon snorts a little, reaching over and grabbing your face with one big hand. he squishes your cheeks together, shutting you up, and you blink up at him with watery eyes, big and terrified. he licks over his teeth, shaking his head.

"dunno wot y've been up to in there, but hear this," he mutters. "you..." he bends low, kissing you just enough to take your breath away for a moment, "...are everythin' i 'ave ever wanted 'n more. olright? no need to fill y'r pretty head with ugly thoughts like tha', baby."

"but--"

"end of discussion," he growls. "say ya understand."

you sigh deeply, closing your eyes.

"yes. i understand."

"mmm--oi!" simon lets go of you, and when you open your eyes, he's reaching for the cat who's poking her head out from between his clean socks in the open drawer of the dresser. "oi! get the fuck outta there!"

when you laugh, your shoulders move with you. and when you smile, simon smiles back.

[unhinged-reader-36]

Since he won't have MOB lift a finger in their home and given how he reacted when she came out in her lingerie, I like to imagine Simon gets a little flustered whenever he's doing the laundry and he's got to sort out her underwear from the rest of the clothes

mail-order bride

it's quiet this afternoon. it's cold outside again (what a surprise), and there's rain pattering gently against the windows. there's a stew in the oven, but it still needs a few hours to get that perfect tender texture. nevertheless, the house is filled with a warm smell, something hearty and wonderful.

something like home.

when simon walks into the living room, he sees you there. you're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, head resting on a throw pillow as you watch a movie. there's a mug of tea in front of you, steam rising from it, and simon comes over to greet you.

you turn your head, looking up at him towering over you, and you smile up at him as you snuggle a little further into the pillow. you hold out your hand for him.

"wanna watch with me?" you ask, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. he takes your hand anyways, and you swallow hard as he presses your knuckles to his lips, giving them a light kiss before letting go.

"doin' the laundry. can't find yours."

you go to sit up, but simon frowns, visibly upset that you're moving from your spot.

"don't get up," he tells you, tucking the blanket back over you. "just tell me where it is."

you bite your lip.

"uhm...it's in the closet. there's...a bag there."

simon hums, thumbing over your jaw before making his way into the bedroom. he flicks the light on in the closet, moving hangers around until he spots a canvas bag on the floor there, stuffed to the brim with your dirty clothes. he picks it up, cursing a little from how heavy it is, and he carries it with him to the washroom. when he passes the living room, he stops for a moment.

"oi," he calls out to you, and you turn your head, smiling at him, and he points to the bag. "you put y'r clothes with mine from now on, yeah?"

you tuck your face behind the blanket a little more to hide your growing smile. you nod anyways, and he huffs a little before continuing. he puts his basket of laundry on top of the dryer, opening the lid of the washer, and he lifts your little bag up next to the basket. after he sets it down, he steps back when the bag starts to move.

"oi! wot the fuck?!"

at the shout, you scramble off the couch, hurrying towards where he is.

"what? what?! what happened?"

"bag's fuckin' movin'!" simon huffs, but when you try to come further into the room, simon puts a hand on your chest gently, pushing you backwards and behind him. he blocks you completely with his body, and you still can barely see as you stand on your toes and try and look over his shoulder.

"simon--" you sigh. "simon! wait--let me see!"

"fuck no," he snarls, "stay there."

he pushes the bag over so that it tips over, falling onto its side. your clothes tumble out, spilling onto the dryer and onto the floor, and simon reaches around him and wraps one big hand around your waist protectively to hold you back as he cranes his neck to see.

"what is it? simon!" you hiss, and simon holds his breath as the bag continues to move. there's a wiggle of a shape under the canvas before a familiar little head pokes itself out from the opening, one of your shirt sleeves framing their face and hiding their ears.

simon groans audibly, relaxing immediately.

"fuckin' hell," he mutters, letting you push him aside, and you hold onto his bicep as you try and hide your laugh. the cat wriggles its way through your shirt sleeve before shaking, fluffing her hair back up before she takes a seat on the edge of the dryer lid and starts to lick her little paw. "'ow did it fuckin' breathe in there, eh?"

you step past him and reach for her, picking her up off the dryer and tucking her into the crook of your arm. she lays her little head on your arm, blinking slowly up at you, and you tap her nose gently before looking back and up at simon.

"sorry she scared you, big man," you giggle, and he scrunches his nose a bit as he glares at the cat.

"wasn't scared," he huffs, and he brings you closer with a hand on your jaw, drawing you nearer. he runs his tongue over his teeth, looking down at you, and you swear his gaze lingers on your lips for just a second too long. "got precious cargo in m'house. couldn't let anythin' happen ta 'er."

you blink up at him, opening your mouth to say something, but you sputter, laughing, looking away from him. you shrug him off with a roll of your eyes, but you look back at him just as you're about to turn the corner and leave. he's already back to picking up your clothes that have fallen onto the floor, and you nearly choke when he's got one big hand wrapped around bright red lace.

he holds up the edges of it for a moment to inspect it, and he swallows when he realizes it's a pair of your panties.

your favorite panties.

when he looks over his shoulder, your eyes lock, and you squeak as you hide behind the doorway, shutting your eyes as you cringe at yourself for reacting so silly.

for fuck's sake, it's your husband--husbands wash their wives undergarments, right?

you poke your head back into the doorway, just enough for your eyes to get simon in view again. he's putting the rest of the clothes in the washer, putting a small amount of soap into it before shutting the top and putting the water on cold. you hide again when he turns around, flattening your back against the wall, and when he comes out, he's got a hint of a smirk on his face, knowing, because he knows he's caught you.

when he passes by you, you go half-lidded and slack when his hand finds your face again, thumb against your bottom lip. his eyes are so dark; beautiful, pupils blown wide, a magnet that draws you closer, up onto your toes until his thumb is nearly touching your tongue and your lips are nearly brushing against his.

simon takes your breath away when he leaves. you follow him hoping to get it back.

[unhinged-reader-36]

I know you mentioned simon doesn’t let his mail order bride lift a finger but I can just imagine her accidentally breaking something and her being so scared she tries to fix it in secret😫he would be so offended if he caught you

mail-order bride

you shriek when your elbow knocks it off the counter.

you cover your ears as the ceramic shatters, flooding the kitchen floor with hot, boiling water. your hands shake as you try and take a few steps back, your lip wobbling as you look at the mess you've made of the kitchen.

you immediately scramble. you go for the towels under the sink, dropping them onto the floor and trying to soak up the water quickly before it touches the carpet from the living room. you can feel the sharp pieces of ceramic under them, but you're too busy trying to clean up to notice how sharp some of the pieces are and that you've cut the side of your finger.

"oi! i heard somethin'," you hear simon's voice coming back in from outside. you gasp, tears blurring your vision, and you're frantic as you try and push the towels out of the way to make the mess look a little smaller.

"no! e-everything's...fine!" you say back, but you know your voice is shaking, so you aren't surprised when you hear him on his way, coming down the hallway and standing in the doorway of the kitchen. you look up at him, holding up your hand over your mouth, shaking your head. "simon...simon, i-i'm sorry..."

he's sweaty from working outside. he runs a hand over his buzzed blonde hair, sighing deeply as he puts his hands on his hips.

"y'r bleedin', baby," simon mutters. you stop moving, looking down at your palms, and you see the little cut on your palm. it isn't deep, but it stings all of the sudden, and your vision blurs again as more tears come down your face.

"i'm sorry, simon," you whisper, sniffling as you wipe your face. "simon, i'm sorry, i just...i just...wanted to make you some tea, i didn't mean..."

"swee'eart," simon interrupts, stepping over the towels. he holds out his hands for you. "get off the floor. c'mon."

you let him pull you to your feet, and he reaches one big arm around you, and he picks you up easily from around your waist and carries you a few inches off the ground, depositing you onto the carpet where you can't hurt yourself.

"simon--"

"don't cry," simon mutters, shaking his head. "y'r so thoughtful, baby..." he scrunches his face, smiling a little, giving your nose a soft kiss. "tryin' to do somethin' for me? awww..." he chuckles. "'s olright. just had an accident, yeah?"

you nod.

"i-i didn't mean to break it, simon."

"i know, baby. shit happens."

you laugh a little, wiping your face, and he leans down to kiss you gently. you kiss him back softly, opening your mouth a little, and you're rewarded with his tongue, sliding over your own as he reaches up to grip your chin and kiss you a little harder.

when he pulls away, you stay near, your nose against his as you look up at him.

"simon?"

"yeah, baby?" he smirks. you smile back, eyes shining.

"when are you going to fuck me?" you ask, all breath, all sweet, all sugar.

you both laugh, and simon shakes his head, touching your nose before he steps into the kitchen to clean up.

when you slink out of the kitchen, you pretend you don't see him adjust himself in his jeans.

[unhinged-reader-36]

I could help honestly see MOB and Johnny becoming besties lol. 🥴

mail-order bride

your phone has been buzzing since you sat down. it's rattling on the coffee table beside simon, who's trying to enjoy the end of the terrible ghost documentary you're making him watch. he's seen enough fake CGI ghost footage for his entire lifetime, but he can't focus on the bullshit explanations when your phone keeps shaking next to him.

"bloody hell, baby," simon mutters, grabbing it and turning it over. he rolls his eyes when he sees johnny's name there, a bunch of text messages one after another. "it's johnny, the bugger."

you lift your head up off his lap, taking the phone from him. when you unlock your phone, you start laughing.

"wot's so funny?" simon asks, raising a brow, and you look up at him.

"johnny asked me to recommend some reality TV. so i told him to watch jersey shore."

"jersey wot?"

you giggle, "jersey shore. it's a great show. we need to watch it sometime. it's classic. a staple reality show that everyone should experience at least once. looks like johnny likes it."

>> HE PUNCHED HER??????

>> mrs riley, gtl this sunday

>> ok i see why u like this all these juiceheads r fucking built like LT

[unhinged-reader-36]

Imagine Nanami Kento waking up from anesthesia after surgery, his bleary and unfocused gaze landing on you (his wife) standing beside him and holding his hand in yours. You smile at him warmly, softly reassuring him that he's okay and that you're right here beside him as he stares at you silently.

Nanami looks down at your joined hands, his gaze seems to focus on the wedding band adorning his ring finger. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up at you.

"Who are you?" He slurs, his words sloshy and imprecise. So unlike him, and so very adorable. "Are you a nurse?"

You giggle at Nanami's question.

"No, I'm not a nurse."

Nanami seems puzzled at your response. His brows furrow as his fingers move against yours, thumb stroking across your knuckles in that gentle motion he always does to soothe you. Your smile widens. Looks like there are some things that even ketamine can't erase.

"Wow. You got the most gorgeous smile. Are you a model? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my whole life. You got really pretty teeth too..."

Kento's fingers tighten around yours, his voice falling into a groggy whisper.

"But...I think I'm married. We shouldn't be holding hands like this."

You bite your lip, fighting against the bubbling laughter in your throat and failing.

"O-Oh?"

Nanami nods, his expression shifting from one of appreciative awe to adorable seriousness.

"I want to be a good husband."

Well that just about melted your whole damn heart. Even the hospital staff in the background can't repress their "awww"s and "that's a keeper"s.

"Don't worry, you are a wonderful husband, Kento. I know that for sure."

He's confused again, those unfocused honey brown's searching yours, trying to figure out the situation as best as he can given the circumstances.

"How do you know?"

You raise your left hand, bringing it into his line of sight and wiggle your ring finger, the golden band surrounding it captures Nanami's attention in an instant.

"Because I'm your wife."

Nanami's eyes instantly grow wide, his expression morphing into one of childlike wonder.

"You're my wife?"

You laugh.

"Yes."

He squeezes your hand with a surprising amount of strength given that he was knocked out cold not that long ago.

"We're really married?"

"Yes."

"Wow..." Kento breathes, drifting off for a moment before asking you another question. "Have we kissed yet?"

His innocent yet hilarious question sends you into another fit of laugher.

"Y-yes! Many times."

Nanami rewards you with a dopey smile, his gaze so utterly loving, enchanted by your unrestrained joy.

"My wife." He murmurs adoringly, his fingers reaching up to caress your cheek.

"I love hearing you laugh." His palm cups your face. "You really are so beautiful. I hit the jackpot, didn't I?"

Grinning from ear to ear, you press a tender kiss to Kento's fingertips before guiding his hand back down to the bed.

"Alright sweetest man alive, you need to stop talking before you make every person in this room fall in love with you. I'm going to grab a snack for us for later. I'll be right back, okay?"

Kento nods.

"Okay. Can I get another kiss when you come back?"

[unhinged-reader-36]

big beefy men who whine for you to let them cum! big beefy men who whimper while you bounce on their lap! big beefy men who hold onto the furniture and beg to “please, please let me touch you!” big beefy men who cry from how good it feels! big beefy men who hide their faces in embarrassment from the noises they make on accident! big beefy men who cling tight to you while fucking you so they can be as close as possible! big beefy men who whine and beg for you to give them a kiss while they’re balls deep! big beefy men who