#kissing bruises and scars

[harmeu]

HOW DO THEY REACT WHEN YOUR HURT?

(GN!READER)

(Aventurine, Scar, Dion Agriche, Kishibe)

TW: Bruises, Scars, Wounds, Blood

AVENTURINE:

Aventurine is known for his eccentric personality for sure. He’s done well when asking others to join him but when it comes to actually connecting with others it falls flat due to his personality. You were an exception though! His beautiful lover.

So finding out you were hurt was not the best. It was a bruise you had gotten on your arm from somebody bumping into you by ‘accident.’ Well no not an accident but you weren’t going to tell Aventurine you had gotten into a fight! You know that would drive him into insanity.

“Oh dear? What's that on your arm?” He asked with his usual sardonic smile faltering at the sight of his beloved hurt. He took his hand out rubbing the bruise in delicate circles.

“Somebody bumped into me by accident.” You said averting your gaze as guilt filled you. 

Aventurine didn’t buy it and you knew as soon as his gaze darkened and his smile became more pointed and defined.

“Lies darling.” He said chuckling and kissed your bruise leaving the house.

All we know is that guy who hurt you was never seen again.

SCAR:

Scar is a manipulative asshole and sometimes you wonder how two different individuals like you two ended up dating. Hell, you loved the guy but sometimes you had to take double takes on his decisions. You loved him and he was obsessed. You could tell by the far lengths he went for you. Even if they weren’t good things.

You had gotten hit badly in a fight. A gash was literally bleeding through the stomach of your shirt. It reminded you of all the scars Scar had. Funny and ironic. Though you knew you had to patch yourself up and cover it before your boyfriend saw or who knows what would happen to the guy who hurt you?

Sadly you didn’t know Scar was home early and found you bleeding. He halted in his steps, eyes widened and staring blankly.

“Scar.?” You murmured out a reply PRAYING that he wouldn’t do anything over the top.

“Who hurt you?” His cunning smile returned as he stroked your scar sending small shockwaves of pain throughout you but you mumbled out an excuse.

“Nobody. Some..vines! Yeah vines. Pointy and thorny stuff.” Bullshit. As if he’d believe that.

“As if darling. Can you pleeeease tell me the guy I need to kill? Ooh! No, no wait! Torture and then kill! Ohhh wait wait. Burn him alive.” He smiled after his words, making you pale.

“No no no! That’s not needed!” You frantically said but Scar was already out the door hunting for the person.

DION AGRICHE:

Dion’s a sociopath. Nicest way to put it! Doesn’t show emotion at all and kills without a second thought. The Agriches were known for their ruthless nature so you should’ve been aware of that. But no one could get used to the sight of bloody bodies as a regular person. It was definitely not on your bucket list to date him but it happened! Right after you caught him smelling flowers. Now that tugged on your heart strings.

Would that excuse his actions? Fuck no. But did you love him? Yes. And so did he surprisingly.

Blood was on your palm after getting slashed by one of those who tried to assassinate the Agriche’s. After they found out your connection to him of course people would try and kill you. You managed to run out of there and make it back to the estate with soft pants.

You didn’t expect to find Dion staring dead in the eye at you, his red pupils dilating as he saw you bleed. You wondered if it reminded him of all the bloodshed he went through.

“You're bleeding.” He stated with a monotone voice.

“A bit yeah.” You forced a smile. “Just those regular guys who keep wanting to assassinate the Agriches..” A soft chuckle left your lips.

“Go to the healer.” He said with the same tone before leaving in the same direction where you got slashed at.

KISHIBE:

Kishibe is a on sight man to put it in simple words. Straightforward and hella strong. It was a surprise you ended up dating him since he was hung up on some lady that rejected him several times because she liked women. Were you just a rebound? You thought at times but those thoughts always vanished when Kishibe brought you little things. Like food, bracelets, and soft kisses. 

He had a tough guy look and definitely was one on the inside after seeing him fight but he did hold affection for you. 

Deeply.

A devil had managed to hit a bad hit on your back making you have to clutch the wall for support and limp back to base trying not to collapse in pain.

As you reached the base you found your lover staring at you with dead eyes. 

You know what those meant.

“Just..a devil.” You murmured out embarrassed since Kishibe was beyond strong and could beat a devil in a blink of an eye. Yet here you are bleeding out. “Sorry.”

Kishibe walked over to you and stared at your wound handing you bandages.

“I’ll be back. I need to release some stress.”

“Wait..” You know what that meant.

“Soon.” He left through the door dragging a huge weapon with him.

[hakusins]

tw // scars, blood, bruises, piercings, cigarettes, a bit of ooc?

man, i love whitney

[seagull-scribbles]

Well I’m not a vampire, but I feel like one…

messy request for @kito-oh-kito 💕 I feel better now, thank you

[eggyrocks]

I AM CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE AS A RETALIATION TO YOU CAUSING PROBLEMS!!!!! AND NOW YOU MADE IT WORSE!!!! not sfw bloody spider iwa.. what if i just died... and will never go to heaven until i get to read abt bloody spider iwa written by you...

OF COURSE IM GOING TO MAKE IT WORSE ANON THATS LIKE MY WHOLE ENTIRE THING‼️

i have created a blog so hostile…….

[parkitaco]

35 + Byler 🤞

It’s nice at the lake today, Mike thinks, as he grabs his towel out of the back of his car and follows Will down toward the water. He’s had some not-so-great memories here, but with the sun shining and Will smiling at him from the water’s edge, it doesn’t even feel like the same place. In any case, this is one place where he’s fine with replacing the bad memories with good ones.

“Hurry up!” Will calls, tossing his own towel on the ground as Mike jogs over to him. 

“I’m hurrying,” Mike huffs, as Will strips off his shirt and wades into the water, shooting him a grin over his shoulder. “Hold your horses.”

“Sorry, couldn’t wait,” Will calls from the water, flipping around to face Mike and kicking his feet up toward the surface. Mike rolls his eyes as he dumps his shirt and towel on the ground, before wading into the water after his boyfriend.

It still sends a little thrill through his stomach, using the word boyfriend in reference to Will Byers, which- they’ve only been dating for a few weeks, so of course it does. It feels even more special, under the early summer sunlight, with Will’s hair already going wavy around the edges from the water and his cheeks tinged with a soft pink. 

Mike can’t help but pull him close, when he gets close enough, reaching for Will’s wrist where it drifts in the water and dragging him into a standing position. Will laughs quietly, water dripping from his hair as he stands waist-deep in the water, and Mike’s about to pull him in for a kiss when-

“Holy shit,” he says, as he glances downward and his eyes catch on Will’s exposed torso, where a shiny pink scar stands out against the tanned skin just below his ribcage. “Will, what-” 

“Oh,” Will says, following his gaze, and the hand that’s not wrapped up in Mike’s flits to the scar absently, like he wants to cover it. “That. I forgot you didn’t know.”

“What happened?” Mike asks, aghast, as his eyes flick back up to Will’s. Will looks almost sheepish, blushing and pressing his fingers delicately over the raw skin like he can will the mark out of existence, and he ducks his head before clearing his throat.

“It’s from, uh. From when they burned the Mind Flayer out of me,” he says in a quiet voice, eyes firmly planted on the shimmery surface of the lake. “It wasn’t working fast enough so Nancy jabbed me with a hot poker.”

“Nancy- you- what?” Mike says, and Will’s eyes flicker to him, looking almost amused by his flustered demeanor. Mike’s entire brain is rearranging itself a little, and he suddenly feels very violent toward his sister, which isn’t to say that he’s never felt violent toward her before, but this is a real, burning anger, and Will must see it in his eyes because he arches an eyebrow and tightens his hold on Mike’s wrist.

“She saved me,” he says, thumb pressing against Mike’s pulse point, and some of his indignation subsides. “I didn’t even know what happened until after.”

Mike bites his lip, eyes drifting down to the scar again, and he lifts a tentative hand to press against it, feeling the smooth edges of it under his fingertips. Will shivers, and Mike glances back up at him, hand settling itself gently against his side. “You never said.”

“Didn’t seem important,” Will says quietly, peering questioningly at Mike through his lashes like he’s concerned. 

Mike frowns. “Why wouldn’t it be important?”

Will huffs, glancing away, and Mike’s thumb brushes gently over the scar. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Everyone else was already treating me like I was- fragile, or something. I didn’t want you to do it too.”

“You’re not fragile,” Mike says immediately, shifting closer as the water ripples around his waist, and Will shoots him a disbelieving look, “You’re not. You’re the bravest person I know.”

Will blushes pink, and Mike steps closer still, enough for Will to tilt his head down to rest in the hollow of Mike’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mike,” he murmurs quietly, lips brushing Mike's skin, and Mike tightens his hold on Will's hand where their hands float in the water.

"Any more scars that I should know about?" he murmurs, thumb still pressed against Will's scar, and Will huffs a laugh.

"Uh, I don't know," he says sheepishly, lifting his face and smiling up at Mike. "You were there for most of the- the injuries, I think."

"The Upside Down ones?" Mike questions, kissing Will's cheek absently.

Will shrugs. "Yeah, but the other ones too. Like, remember in fifth grade when I fell off my bike? I had that cut on my forehead for like a month, my mom was so freaked."

Mike's mouth twitches into a smile. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that," he murmurs, and his eyes catch on the thin white line stretching from the corner of Will's eyebrow up just past his temple. It's usually not visible, but it stands out now against Will's skin, tanned from the summer sun. "She thought you were being bullied and you acted like it was worse to admit that you were just clumsy."

"Well, I was being bullied," Will huffs, smiling a little, "I didn't want to add clumsy idiot to the list too."

Mike smirks. "Well, as the resident clumsy idiot of Hawkins, I can tell you that it's not that bad."

"You're not so bad," Will laughs quietly, placing his free hand against the side of Mike's neck and blinking up at him with a sweet smile on his face. Mike's chest warms, and he can't help it when he swoops in close, pressing a kiss to Will's forehead right over his scar. His lips linger a beat longer than strictly necessary, and when he pulls back Will is smirking at him, eyebrow raised. "Sap."

Mike grins all teeth, unfazed. "What else is there?"

"What, scars?" Will asks, eyebrow still raised, and Mike nods eagerly, probably making a bit of a fool out of himself, but he can't find it in himself to care when Will grins and kisses his bottom lip. "I don't know. There's, like, the ones on my neck from where the vines got me the week I was trapped."

"I knew about those," Mike murmurs, gaze dropping. The lines are faint, soft and red and disappearing under Will's collar when he's wearing a shirt, but right now Mike can see the barely marred skin against his collarbone. He dips his head down to kiss the scars, and Will laughs as he tilts his head back.

"Mike, you're- this is ridiculous," he says, as Mike trails kisses back up to his jawline, "I'm fine."

"I know you are," Mike says, finally releasing his grip on Will's side in favor of cupping his face instead, cool water trickling down his arm. "But still."

"Still," Will agrees, and catches Mike a little by surprise as he lifts their joined arms out of the water, tracing a fingertip over Mike's arm until it lands on a small mark just to the side of his shoulder. "Remember this one?"

Mike grins. "'Course. Sixth grade. I fell out of a tree."

"I would have tried to catch you," Will says thoughtfully, finger pressed over the scar, "But you were, like, twice my size. I think you'd have crushed me."

Mike snorts. "Yeah, you were tiny. And it was only, like, seven feet off the ground. I don't know how I managed to get hurt."

Will hums appreciatively, and Mike grins as Will leans in and presses a soft kiss to his shoulder, right over the scar. "Better?" he asks, and Mike laughs, hooking his arms around Will's waist and tugging him close in the water.

"Much better," he says, voice soft, and Will's knees knock against his underwater. "Thanks."

He wants to question further, to kiss away every last trace of pain still etched onto Will, but Will winds his arms around Mike's neck and lifts onto his toes to kiss him properly, and Mike forgets to worry. He smiles against Will's mouth, tilting him closer, and when his hand brushes against the scar on his ribcage again, it's not nearly as jarring.

The warm sun shines overhead, and Will laughs as he pulls Mike underwater.

[derelictheretic]

I'm feeling very John and Dean are the one good thing they both never get to have because their love has always been wrong and too much and they break each other when they get their hands on each other because maybe this one time it'll be different and they'll be good and soft but they leave the same bruises and scars they always have and even when they have the best intentions their desire to be craved in the way they crave leaves everyhing a bloody unrecognisable mess tonight

[neonstatic]

i've had a case of dry itchy lips for a week and now that it's finally healing and itching less, i now have a very visible bruise on my bottom lip that looks like i've been "sucker-punched right in the mouth" (quote from my sister)

[mothmx]

Artists who remember tiny details about characters I’m kissing u on the forehead

[tonycries]

I-T G-I-R-L!

Synopsis. Making big, powerful boys break beg and follow your every whim? Easy!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, NÉEDY boys, making them whine, bondagé, creampíes, GOJO’S POWERS, chokíng Geto, use of “good boy”, cúmplay, spítting, making them CRY, MAJOR overstím, bégging (THEM), pússy-slappíng, oraI (fem receiving), face-ríding, matíng presses, dry húmping, overspill, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (whew)

A/N. Woke up n’ decided I wanna bully them so here we are. Have a lovely day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - MR. AND MRS.

“P-please.”

“What was that?”

“Fuck you-”

It was low - begging - and for the first time, you have that syrupy sweet privilege of hearing Toji’s husky baritone break with such a whiny crack at the end. 

Smugly, you swipe an index right across where your puffy pussy was straddling his poor, overworked cock. Collecting the saturated mess along his furious length - still so swollen with the sheer volume he’d been gushing out tonight. All the way up, up, up to that messy puddle of seed glistening all over his flinching abs. “Then…I guess m’not letting you cum inside, Toji. Again.”

“No! No no no- oh.” Toji’s burst of pained moans are cut off when you shove your fingers between his bruised lips. Dewy, green eyes rolling to the back of his head with each suck and slurp at their milky white sheen. “Fuck- you little-” And despite how furious he sounds, you could feel the very tip of his fat head thicken, twitching a jagged pattern along your cervix. With a low growl, Toji narrows his gaze, biting down on your now-clean digits with his sharp canines, “I said- please, my girl.”

Just that simple plea has your boyfriend’s jaw clenching, teeth gritted so viciously at the way you’ve been oh-so-coyly denying him the one thing he’s wanted for what feels like hours now. 

“Louder.” your lips curl into a devilish grin, back arching in that perfect bow Toji loved so much. Only deepening the lingering rolls of your hips down his needy tip. “Didn’t hear ya.”

“F-fuck.” Toji’s throwing his head back, thick fingers coming down to splay out across your bent thighs. “Can you- please-” You could feel every minute flex of his muscled thighs when he efforts to buck your sloppy hips deeper - faster - down his fat cock. Only to be halted by ten mean fingernails of yours pinning him down by his curving pecs, “-please. Wan’ cum inside- let me cum inside goddammit, woman.”

Of course, you decide to tease him by slowing down your pace even more. Letting your sloppy pussy just stroll down every greedy inch of his dick. Trying to hold back your content giggle, “I dunno…”

And Toji thinks he could yell out in frustration, he thinks he could sob, “Fuck- I said please. Pretty please? What more do you fucking want?”

He sounded so devastated. And you swear you could spy wet, bulbous tears at the corners of his long lashes, the familiar scar along his lips wobbling with such precious need. 

“Hmm–” you’re letting out such a sultry drag of your voice, taking so much of your sweet sweet time that Toji thinks he’s about to lose his mind. About to just flip your bratty self over and shove his thoroughly teased cock into you until you forget about that looming threat of not letting him paint your insides white. Fuck, the things he does for you-

“Call me your wife.”

Shit - Toji’s darkened eyes widen at your little request, jaw hanging open in disbelief and-

“That’s it?” he laughs - laughs. Rumbling out of his broad chest in a hoarse rasp, and those two strong arms of his tug down your limp body to kiss teasingly at your jutted-out lips. Slipping his hot tongue between the seams, “S’all because my hah- baby wanted to be my- my pretty lil’ wife. Well-” Any and every retort is fucked out of your mind when Toji’s spearheading into your mushy g-spot with a harsh rut of his hips. “-what my wife wants, my wife gets.”

The bed is creaking with every riotous slam, smearing the velvety pool of cum even farther between your bodies. Sticking to you like a sloppy second skin, strings of lewd juices form and snap when his massive cock stretches your gummy walls until they gape. 

“Shit- shit shit shit, if I knew that was all you wanted-” you’re feeling the languid drag of Toji’s happy trail scratch your throbbing clit. “Please- I would’ve been fucking my wife for s-so long now. Silly girl, s’all I’ve ever wanted- would’ve begged, gotten on my knees-”

“Hngh! Fuck-” you’re squealing when you feel him drip with even more saturated precum to coat your snug channel. One calloused palm of his coming between the two of your slick bodies to smear across the mess from his sweet highs, deftly angling them so that the rounded tips of his fingers are stuffing your leaky pussy with sloppy globs of his seed every time you’re slamming down. 

“Now now–”  It’s all you can do to gulp in heaving breaths to make your tone sound warning, but even that sounds too breathless - and both of you know it. Babbling away, “-don’t get so cocky- might just- hah, change my mind, husband.”

And fuck. Oh fuck. 

Your poor cunt just throbs when in a split-second, Toji’s mouth slacks even further, wrenching out a guttural groan. 

And then your gushing walls are milking out every ribbon of velvety cum that splurges into your tight pussy. It’s so much - too much, painting your insides all white with his seed. Toji’s gasping at the feeling of it sloshing around your elastic walls in slow, clingy swivels coating the both of you. 

His breath hitches when he spies down at the obscenely white mess below, globs of his cum slobbering messily down your inner thigh. Fuck, he’s never - never - came before you. This was-

“This better be a proposal, y’know.” you hum in amusement. “Or it would be interesting that you came early just becaus-”

“The fuck else would it be?” Toji’s gruffing out, two warm hands gliding to grip onto the globes of your ass. Still irritated. Still embarrassed. 

Ignoring your titter, he rams your teasing hips down with a sharp smack! like he was branding all five fingers onto your skin. Plugging your ravaged entrance shut with his weepy dick to stop even more of that thick, gushing cum from trickling out. You mewl when you feel his swelteringly wet tip quirk at the very bottom of your spongy cervix in interest, “Now be quiet and let me fuck you properly as my wife.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Hands-on intervention…

“You really are trying to get us fired, huh, my love?” he’s murmuring gently, “What do you think you’re doing this late, hm?”

Now, Nanami knew he shouldn’t have taken on those extra documents, he knew he should’ve been back home by now. Wrapped up in you and your cute gossip about what happened in your department today.

But here he was, sitting at his empty office. With you - stubborn as you are - straddling him like such a slut on top of his heavily manspread, muscular thighs, his favorite late-night snack. His coworker. His wife. 

“I should hah- ask you the same thing, Ken.” you’re grinning, the sinfully tight satin of your skirt hiking up with each slow, teasing roll of your drooly cunt against his clothed erection. It’s so messy. Your syrupy saturated slick mixing in with Nanami’s steadily beading precum. “Didn’t we both agree to no more late nights?”

He’s heaving out a shaky sigh, running a warm hand up and down your arched spine, “I know, I know. I apologize.”

That frantically achy little pulse of your slick-glossed cunt on top of him told him that he wasn’t forgiven just yet. And Nanami gulps - loosening that yellow, speckled tie of his with the tight bobbing of his Adam’s apple. Rich tone shaky - shuddering, even, “How- how do you want me to make it up to you, darling?”

You’re batting your lashes at his expansive mahogany desk. “Well…”

Of course he should’ve seen where this was going - with your high-heel-clad feet swiveling high in the air, digging into his broad shoulders. Stitches in your poor skirt popping and tearing with each bullying thrust your husband’s planting on your ravaged in this tight mating press. 

“K-Ken—” you’re letting out such a sickly sweet moan when his fat, weepy tip collides with the very bullseye of your sensitive g-spot. Your fingers work deftly to reach into your skirt pocket - pulling out that familiar tiny hot-pink bullet vibrator.

“Walkin’ around with that during work?” Nanami gasps, barely tearing his eyes away from that heavenly sight of your swollen pussy entrance wrapped around his girthy shaft. “Such a dirty girl you-” 

“Oh s’not for me.” 

And fuck, Nanami can only watch - can only gape his clenched jaw open when your devious fingers dip the feverishly shaky vibrator down, down, down to kiss so delicately at his thick hilt. 

“Oh!” His towering body wracks with a shiver, full, heavy balls clenching so tightly. Hammering his rawly aching cock so thoroughly into you, hips pistoning forwards with the carnal need for more more more- “Wait- Fuck! M-my love?”

“Yes–?” you’re humming, low and sultry and oh Nanami already knows he’s gone. He can only pray he leaves with his sanity intact. 

Splaying out two large hands on the sides of your head, the documents on top rustle in sync with those saturatedly hypnotic squelches echoing from your ravishing cunt. “Is this- s’this oh, fuck- please.” Nanami screws his eyes shut when you’re holding down the device even harder onto his glistening shaft. “S’this- is it- because I broke our hah- promise?”

“Maybe.” you’re breathing out into his panting mouth. So enveloped by his weighty figure that it was almost difficult to work your little magic. “Maybe I just got tired of waitin’ around for you to finish overtime, Ken.”

“Please!”

Over and over. That tiny spark is enough to have him barrelling back into your dripping wetness with reckless abandon. 

He’s so utterly ruined - glasses sliding down his high nose-bridge, thighs quivering with sensitive need. And you could just feel every fresh wave of heated precum painting your cunt in a glossy new coat. “Fuck- tell me please. Please, darling, m’begging.”

“Promise me no more overtime.” You’re grinning, fingers still steady tracing his most sensitive spots. 

“P-promise…”

“N’ to always hurry home to me?”

“I promise! I promise- promise to always come home- to you- always. Please-” he’s startling you with a soft pad of his thumb rolling over your neglected clit. Such a low, broken keen leaving him at when you start drawing harsh, methodical circles on the sensitive spots along his length. “N-no more overtime. Please please please- feels too good- what do I do- what-”

Ah, success looked so pretty.

Nanami’s eyes were already so watery, stern lips trembling with little apologies about “never workin’ overtime again.” So uncharacteristically disheveled in a way that makes your mouth water.

“Shit-” you hiss when that pointed nub of the vibrator accidentally hits your widely stretched-out pussy. The velvety cling of your walls making him hiss furiously. Disrupting, fat tip nudging all those crevices along your snug channel. “Hah- don’t think I’d let you off so-”

Before you can react, he’s hiking a long leg up on the desk to angle his crashes with scary accuracy. Just colliding against your bulbous g-spot with no hesitation. Pushing, with the very edge of his weepy tip - far, so far that you could scream.

Over and over and over- So elastically stretching out your snug hole to your limits to take him in all his long, throbbing entirety. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck I know, I know.” He’s alternating between long, rough strokes to shove you further and further up the cool desk, and shallow lingering grinds to mold your pretty walls to the exact form of his swollen shaft. “I’ll do anything- anything, please just- cum.”

It only takes a few more calculated pistons of his hips, and a touchy, teasing smack! onto your weepy cunt before you’re crashing headfirst into your orgasm. Cumming all around his wildly twitching shaft, your velvety walls just mending all around the shape of his pretty cock. Your toes curl, back arching into such a bowing bend. And in the split-second your grip weakens, Nanami’s seizing that hot pink devil in your hand.

“F-fuck wait-” you squeal at at familiar bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt echoing across the filled-out walls of your cunt. Squeezing inside the tight fit where Nanami’s fat shaft was nestling, tremoring so deliciously against each and every one of your sweet spots. Stuffing you full. “What-”

“Don’t forget - you’re working overtime, too, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - No need for air

“F-fuuuck, gorgeous.” Geto’s melodic moan makes your cunt throb, a fresh gush of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down to where he was slapping your puffed-up clit with his fat head. The angry divot of his tip smacking up once, twice onto the too-sensitive nub. 

“So fuckin’ wet f’me-” he whispers from behind, gliding a thumb across the glossy sheen trickling down from the corners of your slit. The sight of his glistening fingers makes him bare you with such a crazed, feral grin, feeding you inch by fucking in languid, bullying rams. “-almost makes me forget the hand around my throat.”

At this, your nails are digging in even deeper around the pale, long column of his throat. Leaving neat, red indents that stand out. And you swear you could spy his leering grin grow even wider at that sinful sting. 

“What about it, Sugu?” you’re grinning over your shoulder. Gasping for air at how relentlessly he was trying to squeeze his fat shaft through that tight, glossy ring of muscle. 

Each drag of his throbbing shaft has your fingers tightening more around his throat. Making Geto feel so woozy and lightheaded with each little grind into the glistening channel past your puffy folds. “Heh, really like fuck- it rough like this, huh?” A low groan drags at the back of his throat when you start pushing your limp hips back in a jerky little cadence to try and meet his. “Shit- shit shit shit s’too good. You’re suckin’ me up so tight s’almost hard to fuck into ya. Almost makes me wanna-”

“Cum inside?” 

This earns you a punishing smack! on your bulging cunt, cool metallic rings of his burning into your skin. So sopping wet and struggling to expand your gummy walls around his expanding girth. Drawing out a dark chuckle from the depths of his chest, “Real funny, gorgeous. You and I both hah- know s’jus’ your hngh! cockdrunk mind talking.”

“Nooo—” you’re tugging him in a desperate, vice-like grip to crash your lips against his. Whining against his lips, “S’not. Really really want you to cum inside, Sugu. F’me - please? Like a good boy?” 

It was a little slip of your tongue - really - and you didn’t expect anything more than another teasing slap to your cunt, maybe even a joke at your expense.

But what you didn’t expect was for the sloppy cadence of Geto’s hips to falter just a bit. You’re turning your head just in time to catch that glassy, far-away look in his eyes, jaw slacking open to let out a shocked gasp. You hear a sharp pop! from his toned hips before they’re surging forwards to barrel your poor cunt with every weighty inch of his girth. 

Over- and over and over- One large hand of his is catching around yours to squeeze - warningly. Letting out a strangled, “G-gorgeous…”

Oh? 

Brows quirking, you’re batting your lashes so syrupy slow, “Are you gonna be my good boy, Sugu? Make me a momma?”

Another lewd push and pull, having you bouncing back on Geto’s sharp hipbones with such loud smacks! of skin-on-skin. Ringing into the humid, heady air and wracking his body with almost-painful shivers. 

“F-fuck–” He’s struggling to find the words - to even think with his melty mess of a mind. Such a delicate blush burns at Geto’s scowling cheeks when you’re facing him with a surprised grin - one he hides by latching his lips onto the crook of your neck, hiding away the smile threatening at his plump lips. “God- you’re gonna be the death of me. Don’t you fuckin-”

Your firm grip grows even firmer, resolving to him choking in large, breathy exhales. “Good boy.” Craning your arm around deftly to cup his pretty cheek. “You’re gonna do what I say, right?”

Shit, he was a goner.

It has the same effect, and once again, your big bad boyfriend is reduced back into a whiny mess. He’s planting two strong legs on the drenched silken sheets to fully fuck his bullying cock all the way into the back of your plushy pussy. 

Usually sharp tongue so heavy and slurring. Babbling out little pleas into the rhymically jiggling valley of your breasts - “Ohhh yes- yes yes yes please let me- wanna- m’your good boy, right? Let me cum inside, hngh shit! Wan’ you to take it- ah- a-all, make you a momma.” 

He lets out wet, feverish pants when you drag him close enough to moan that dangerous little word into his mouth. “Please? Please let me?” Geto nuzzles his cheek into your soft palm, heady movements so slow. Syrupy - like he was moving through molasses. And it’s like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing when he’s popping one of your fingers into his mouth. Delicate pink lips looking so pretty - depraved - wrapped around your ring finger. “Wanna knock you up- hah marry you.” His eyes roll to the back of his head, “Put a ring on this finger- n’ a baby in ya pretty pussy.”

Meeting that increasingly ruthless cadence by fucking back to memorize each thumping ridge, each prominent vein along his girthy shaft. Twitching. Angry. He’s nodding - nodding so feverishly - tears crinkling glisteningly at the corners of his lids. “Please- please call me that again. Let me make you a momma, please.”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence, because it only takes a few more solid, thorough swallows of his rummaging cock before he’s speechless. So fucking pussydrunk he can’t piece together anything but your name followed by a slurred-out string of profanities. Close. Too close. 

Staring into Geto’s heavy, half-lidded gaze, you whisper such a saccharine sweet, “Then, cum inside f’me like a good boy, Sugu.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Crybaby.”

It’s by the second orgasm that Choso feels a bit jittery, thighs quivering uncontrollably, chest heaving up and down in pained, ragged little gasps. 

It’s by the fourth that Choso feels nervous, he trusts you - of course, he does, you’re his sweet girl after all - and yet he can’t help that churning heat in his pulse. Heavy balls squeezing weakly with each glide of your soft palm down his red, achingly stimulated length. 

It’s only by the fifth that Choso is sobbing, big fat tears trailing down to his glossy lips. Such a rosy red and bitten in worry, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Oh, it takes everything in Choso to not cling on desperately to your feverish hand right now - dwarfed by his sheer girth, so glossy with a thick sheen of precum - yet still dragging up and down relentlessly. Treating him like some toy. 

“Baby–” your beloved boyfriend’s wet gasp catches in his throat when you swivel a curious thumb underneath his sensitive slit. Letting a fresh gush of his saturated precum glisten down to your wrist. “Baby baby baby- please. P-please, I don’t think I can- ngh- give y’anymore.”

“I think you can.” your leveled hum cuts through his frantic pleas. “Don’t you think? After all, you were so happy getting off to my panties like this, weren’t you? Ruining them?”

It’s like the very memory of his shameful act has Choso fucking his jerky hips up into your soft touch, arching his muscled back into a beautiful curve on your soaked bedsheets. Oh, how embarrassed he felt - how shameful, being caught in the very act by you, fingers deep in your panty drawer. 

Despite his very obvious need, he’s shaking his barely-lucid head. Damp, dark tresses sticking to his sweat-glossed forehead, curtaining those glassy eyes. Slurring out, “Fuck! Please m’sorry m’sorry I don’t think- can’t-”

So deceivingly innocently, you’re batting your lashes in a way that has his massive girth jolting ferally in your hand, “But that’s all I really want, Cho~?”

“...”

Leaning down, Choso could feel your mean smirk against his hotly flushed skin. Dragging up his salty trail of tears, kissing so gently meanwhile your next words made him think he’d pass out. Sultry, and whispered right against the shell of his ear, “Then we better make this last one count, right?”

“Ah!” he’s yelping, large hands scrambling for the sheets - the headboard - you when you seat yourself so prettily on his splayed-out lap. Greedy cunt feeding into every long, solid inch of his achy cock in an easy glide. It felt so good - it hurt so good. Fuck, he thinks he’s gonna-  “-die.” Choso rasps, jittery hands coming to rest at your waist. “Think m’gonna die- gonna- fuck fuck fuck-”

You didn’t even have to think of moving, yet - because all it takes is for Choso’s gushy tip to be swallowed up by your snug channel - the slightest taste of heaven, the slightest squeeze - before you’re being slammed down onto the plush mattress.

Breath puffing out of your lungs, gasping at the sheer stretch when your dangling legs are being thrown over Choso’s broad shoulders. Wrapping tight into a vice-like grip when he folds you in half, down, down, down into the meanest mating press you didn’t think either of you capable of.

But rationality was the last thing on Choso’s mind, right now. 

“Baby—” he’s hissing, fully sheathed inside your dripping cunt to that thick hilt of his. He gulps at the stars bursting behind his lids with each slow, lingering grind. Nuzzling into your touch, “Baby, can’t b-believe you’ve ahh- brought me to this state. M’sorry hah- please forgive me.”

And you almost feel bad - that is, until Choso’s swiping his fat tip against your spongy cervix. Still feeling every single pads of your fingers burning down his raw shaft every time your puffy cunt milks him tight. He’s jutting in jerky, unmethodical little humps - feeling less human than just sheer need. 

“W-well-” you’re gasping, when he gives such a ruthless smash into your bruisingly bulging g-spot. Bonelessly, you wrap your arms around his pale neck, tugging him in so close. A full-body shudder wracks through his entire body when you crane your glossy lips up to bite down on his ear lobe, “-how about you cum f’me again to make up for those three limited edition panties you stole.”

His jaw falls even more slack at your little sentence, a shiny trail of drool dripping from the corners of his ravaged lips. 

“Baby, please.” he’s hissing, moving pistoning even sloppier into you as if on autopilot. A cracking ah! ah! ah! leaves Choso’s mouth at every bullying crash against your g-spot, every dizzying thrust. “Anything else. Please please-”

Through his blurry vision, the blood roaring in his ears, Choso could make out your soft suckling kiss against his slack lips. “Cum f’me, Cho.”

Maybe it’s that honeyed little nickname, maybe the way the curve of your thumb glides away his mess of syrupy saliva. Or maybe it was the way your velvety walls come to form around him so tight - squeezing almost meanly. Once. Twice. 

Choso doesn’t know - nor does he fucking care right now.

“F-fuck I can’t believe-” his eyes snap so comically wide open, letting out such a long, drawn-out drawl of your name. Hips stuttering to smack forwards, “-m’cumming- shit, it hurts- it feels so good. M’cumming m’cumming-”

Choso cums - in ghosting, wispy streams of almost-translucent fluid. Withering out into nothing, until his poor, overworked cock is spurting out just blank heavals. Cumming dry, the only signs of him fucking you through his high being that shaking in his thighs, that frantic twitching of his shaft - flinching to nudge into each dripping sweet spot inside you. 

And his broken, pleading cries, “Fuck- m’buying you the hah- wh-whole store. Fuck- please, baby just-” Nudging his sobbing cock even deeper to brand at your cervix, “-just one more.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - TASTE

“You little-”

“What?” you’re leering down at the great Ryomen Sukuna. Pink locks splayed out across the decadent silk sheets, pretty face framed so perfectly by your thighs. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Not quite.” his long, rosy tongue licks a strip up your exposed skin. All the way up from about midway at your inner thigh to just the edges of your drippingly wet panties. Syrupy sweet, and see-through with all your juices. “You really think this is gonna make me say sorry for uh-”

You have to stifle a low laugh when Sukuna cuts himself off with a ragged hitch of his breath. Sharp, cursed eyes widening - just a fraction - honing in to let his greedy tongue loll out. It takes him only a split-second to catch that droopy ooze of your slick, beading through your sopping slit and right onto the middle of his tastebuds. 

“Mmm-” he’s licking that lewd little gloss all over his lips without even a shred of abashedness. “Where- uh where were we, brat?”

Without warning, you’re lacing your fingers through his surprisingly soft strands. Pulling - hard enough to make him groan - until the tip of Sukuna’s nose was just kissing at the lacy mound of your cunt. 

“I believe…” you’re smirking at the way that’s all it takes for him to slide the thick seam of his tongue between the thin fabric of your panties. Red - to match his eyes. Not wasting even a second when he lets your honeyed sweet cunt drool all the way down to the back of his throat. “Not gonnna make him say sorry” your ass. “-you were in the middle of apologizing for forgetting our little dinner date.”

You don’t think he hears you - you don’t even think he breathes. Because with one, final shuddering breath puffed out onto your quivering pussy, Sukuna is meshing his lips with yours in such a messy kiss. Fast, thirsty. Clashing against your swollen folds, slurping past your flimsy excuse of panties to latch around your throbbing clit. He’s hollowing out his cheeks to give them harsh, methodical little sucks. 

“Shit- mmpf- fuck I always forget how sweet you are.” he’s rasping, two large hands coming up to spread the globes of your ass. Pushing you up, up, up to slobber all your saturated slick down the lower half of his face - his cheekbones. “C’mon now, ride my nose- hah, use me with this cute cunt like you always do.”

Fuck, was it tempting. And it takes everything in you to tug away his salivating mouth with a loud squelch! And if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that the infamous king of curses let out a whine - a whine - watching those delicate strings of spit and slick snap away when you hoist yourself off his greedy mouth.  

“What the fuck, woman?”

“I told you, Kuna.” you whine out, as scoldingly as you can. Wrangling against those big beefy arms trying to desperately pull you back down, “You hafta apologize.”

You’re teetering precariously when Sukuna’s entire chest rumbles with a groan, eyes rolling so sassily. “What did you want me to do?” he clicks his tongue. Baring you with such dangerous fangs that glisten with your juices in the dim light. “Had to kill off some scum curses, s’not my fault. M’not apologizing for- shit-”

Any and every retort is knocked out of his mean mouth at that heavenly sight of you running your trembly fingers between your puffed-up pussy lips. Pushing past your panties to run them up and down where your dripping wet cunt needed you most. 

“Oh?” you’re quirking a brow at how transfixed he was. Following that shuddering gulp when you roll your neglected clit between two fingers. “Cat got your tongue now?”

His jaw slacks open when you’re teasing your winking hole, glossed-up and already so pliant with where Sukuna had just dipped the edge of his soft tongue inside. His mouth waters at the memory, “I–”

“Or is it that you just don’t hah-” you’re arching your back even more to give him the perfect view. Fingers getting a bit more frenzied, circling around the very edge of that ring of muscle the way you knew he loved to do. “-want this-” Whining out, “-Kuna–?”

That was it.

“Fuck, sit-” Sukuna’s gritting out through clenched teeth. And when you’re only stagnating and hovering tempestuously in front of him, he wraps all four large arms around the small of your waist. “-fucking sit, woman.” 

You’re squealing at the force of his inhuman strength, dragging you down unceremoniously onto his awaiting mouth. With this, he’s spitting on your cunt. Once. Twice. Three whole times to add to the glistening gloss that collected down your folds. 

“M’sorry, see?” he goads pridefully. Oh, if anyone heard the cruel king of curses apologizing like this, they’d faint. Giving the fat of your ass a branding smack! Hard enough that he could feel all five bumps of his sweltering fingers on your skin. “Fuckin’ little- oh- spoiled little-” But Sukuna can’t even finish his sentence - can’t even think about it with his mind so saturated. Hot tongue mashing in to swerve and drag across those sweet spots hidden at your plushy walls. “Said m’sorry, s’this good enough for you?”

Your pussy such a sopping wet mess that Sukuna can’t help but kiss again. And again. And again and again and- “See m’sorry. M’so, so sorry- fuck just never take this pretty pussy away from me, little brat.” 

And now you’re sure he lets out a whimper - raspy, and a few octaves higher than his usual baritone. So deep now that he was just cinching your pulsing clit across his sharp nose. Murmuring, “Stop laughing- can feel ya shaking- before I cancel our dinner reservation for tomorrow. M’renting out the whole fuckin’ restaurant, so ya better give me my fill.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Bed chem.

“It won’t-” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that the great Gojo Satoru was pleading right now. Praying. Voice shot, pretty pink lips wobbly, pale hand raw and red from tugging on those fluffy handcuffs. He’s pouting, “Won’t work.”

He was so picture-perfect, restrained tight to the headboard with those customized handcuffs you’d ordered. Blinking his weepy, blue eyes droopily, slurring words that were all bark and no bite. 

You’re rolling your eyes, giving his spit-glossed lips a lingering little peck, “Didn’t think you were such a pussy, Toru?”

“F-fuck who are you calling a-” It makes your cunt absolutely drip with a fresh wave of honeyed juices when you give his sensitively overworked shaft another thorough glide of your drooling walls. Meshing your pussy lips with the very hilt of his angry, red cock. “Please- fuck when you’re riding me like that, sweetheart.” he’s yanking frantically on those restraints as if to hold onto your feverishly gliding body. “Think- hngh! Think I really will explode-”

“Oh?” you’re cutting through his babbles, eyes flitting over his powerful arms, those glassy eyes that just seemed to glow in the dim bedroom lighting. “I knew I wasn’t seeing things, so you do think that- ah- your powers are linked to you-”

Your thoughts are spiraling into a gooey mess when Gojo’s uncontrollably strengthened thighs leverage themselves on the silken mattress to just rut up into your squelching pussy. 

“Jus’ wanna see, Toru.” you’re huffing, reaching a hand behind your ruthless hips to palm at his painfully squeezing balls. Rolling the soft pad of your thumb over the curve of their straining texture - just the way he liked it, “Wan’ you to cum f’me. Just wanna see.”

“Using all your dirty tricks-” he’s spitting, mouth sagging open to let you plant a few somewhat apologetic kisses down Gojo’s face. “I can’t-” Another harsh buck of his hips, and with such a loudly pornographic mewl he’s bullying his overwhelmed cock up, up, up to swerve into your neverendingly sloppy staccato - right into your sweet spots. “Fine- fucking fine- hah- use me. Use me for whatever- just, please. Fuck I just wanna cum- please—”

You’re very quickly realizing that those handcuffs can do nothing to restrain Gojo Satoru. In fact, the only reason they’re still on him unscathed was purely out of indulging in your cute little play. 

Gifting you with such a sexily cocksure grin he tries to mask away his furious flush, his trembling voice with, “N-no, m’not a- hngh! M’not some grade 4 sorcerer. I’m the fuuuck- strongest, why would my powers go out of control when I cum- fuck-

Gojo’s blabbering mouth is cut off with each gripping slide down his achy cock. Molding your plushy walls to each of his eager twitches, so fucking massive that you had to balance your hands on your boyfriend’s broad deltoids to even have him reach each hidden deep spot inside you. 

It makes him throw his head back, it makes him cry out, it makes him whine. 

And it only takes a few more churning strokes of Gojo’s hips, a few more critical mashes into the spongy bullseye of your g-spot before you’re cumming. So hard that you don’t even realize it at first. 

Gojo does, though - of course, he does - fighting back against the velvety cling of your cunt to fuck you into the desk so deeply. So purposefully that he can almost feel every indented bruise of his fat tip hitting against your slick cervix, your bouncy g-spot. Wave after wave having you milking the fucking soul out of him and-

“Fuck m’gonna-” he’s whining, hips stuttering upwards like they’re pained to pull back from your heavenly pussy. If even just to thrust his greedy length all the way back in. Gojo’s breaths come out in ragged pants, chest heaving up and down. Somehow, the hairs on your body raise, and you can feel that familiar tension of pressurized atoms. “Can’t hah- last much longer. Fuck- please. M’close- gonna cum gonna-”

That sobbing little divot at the end of his angry, thick head just bursts with thick, long ribbons upon ribbons of sloshing white cum. Gliding across every inch of your tight pussy, coating all your insides in a creamy color that was so Gojo. 

It’s so much - dripping down the corners of your bulging slit in oozing little dredges, making such a mess of your rapidly overfilling cunt. Almost too much - it felt like you could explode. 

You’re almost missing that familiar little flash of blue lightning at the corner of Gojo’s pussydrunk eyes. Glowing and almost falling shut with just how fucking good it felt to have your milky cunt sloshing full of his seed. The thought- the thought makes him-

You’re gasping when the lamp by your sloppy bed starts flickering so dangerously, once. Twice. Before bursting into tiny shards that flick at the both of you - only to be stopped, falling to the surrounding blankets just a few centimeters short like they were hit by an invisible wall.

“T-Toru–” the sound of your voice makes something in Gojo’s heating body raise its dark, feral head. And he only wrenches out of those pathetic handcuffs to wrap two big, strong arms around your waist. Face burying into your skin, fucking up into you over and over and-

CREAK! 

The bed groans at his rough cadence, so loud even over the dragging wooden noises of some of the furniture nearby inching forward like they were briefly tugged by some magnetizing force - Gojo. 

Bingo.

And it’s like something snaps because you’re jolted with a sharp spark of electricity. White-hot pleasure blissing down your entire limp body, and suddenly your high feels like it’s being repeated over and over and-

“Hey- hey, sweetheart?” Gojo’s voice sounds so far away. Lazily, your heavy lids blink back your vision - when did it even become hazy? “...y’know how every science experiment has about five trials?”

“...”

A/N. I don’t want to write a longer version of Gojo’s but the demons in me want to write a longer version of Gojo’s…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ghostsangel]

your new neighbor has taken a liking to you

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

tags/warnings: mdni, infidelity (ghost’s marriage sucks), size kink, breeding , unprotected sex, degradation/dumbification, squirting, corruption kink if you squint

Simon is in a loveless marriage.

It’s sad—he knows that. Ever since he got back from deployment, things with his wife weren’t the same. She would stay at work late, come home smelling of someone else’s cologne, trying to hide her swollen lips.

Military service took a toll on him. The torture, the abuse, the loss of life—sometimes it was too much for him to bear. His wife didn’t understand, and he certainly couldn’t talk to her about it. She was too busy being fucked by other men to speak to him anyway. So, he kept his trauma close to his chest.

Then he met you.

You moved in next to him while he was away. When he left for service, the house was empty—vines withering up the creaky wood, yard overgrown and barren. As soon as he drove into his front yard, he knew that changed.

The house was fixed up, vines trimmed. A new coat of paint covered the old wood and made it look new. A hammock hung between two large trees in the yard. And one other thing was different.

Flowers. They were everywhere in your yard. Rose bushes, lavender, tulips, sunflowers—the yard was a rainbow of color. Simon could smell them from his front yard when he went outside to smoke or to get away from the confines of his house.

It wasn’t until he was smoking one afternoon that he saw you. Fresh-faced and young, gloved hands trimming back your rose bushes. It took him a while to say hi, but he did eventually. You were everything his wife wasn’t—kind, bubbly, thoughtful…innocent.

He found himself in your front yard more than he was at home, offering to help you trim your flowers or plant new ones. He was always filling the heavy watering can and watering for you—“I got all this muscle, sweetheart, let me use it for somethin’.”

Simon wasn’t sure when he began spilling his trauma, but one day, he sat on your couch with a glass of lemonade telling you about the war. The torture, the loss of his military brethren—everything. He told you about his past and his present, about his failing marriage; and most importantly, that he trusted you.

The first intimate actions were small. A brush of a hand, a squeeze of a thigh. Lips brushed against an ear. Small actions that made your tummy clench and his face grow hot. Eventually, it led to something more. Soft kisses on tender lips, hands running over scarred skin and muscle, strong arms wrapped around you.

And tonight, you kissed him with a hunger he couldn’t ignore anymore. Your tongue swiped so slowly along his that his knees buckled and his heart slammed against his chest. His fingers gripped your ass so tightly, you thought it would bruise, but it sent heat to your core all the same.

That’s how you find yourself now—on your back in your bed, sheets sprawled around you and Simon eating you like a man starved. His tongue flicks so deliciously against your clit that it makes your toes curl and your grip tighten in his hair.

“Simon,” you whine, hips bucking as he sucks hard on the sensitive nerves. His response is a grunt, his middle and ring finger gathering your juices and teasing your tight entrance.

Your breath stills when he pushes his two thick fingers inside of your pussy, back arching and hips drawing back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon mutters against your clit, tugging your hips down with his other hand and curling his fingers inside of your wanting cunt.

All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch your squelching pussy, juices dripping down to your ass. His tongue rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting a fucking picture, and you can’t help but moan out at the pleasure. His fingers hit that spongy spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure.

“S-Simon, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice breaking off in a moan as he speeds up.

And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his hands running up to your waist. Your eyes flutter open—when did they shut?—and you look up at him staring down at you, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck. “Squirting for me like that. Gonna do that on my cock, too, sweetheart?”

All you can do is moan in response, and Simon chuckles before pulling back and tugging down his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take in his fat cock—thick and veiny and leaking precum. He holds eye contact with you as he moves to hover over you, rubbing his tip along your soaked folds.

You squirm and whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Simon grins, positioning his tip against your throbbing hole. “Gonna make it fit.”

Your lips part as he slowly slides his fat cock inside you, stretching you out in such a painfully delicious way that you almost forget to breathe. You can feel every vein in his cock, and Simon lets out a guttural groan when he sheathes himself fully inside you.

“Relax, doll. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight and I haven’t even moved.” His voice is strained, and he lets out a breath as you try to relax.

His hand moves to your throat, squeezing slightly as he begins to move. Slow at first—painfully slow. You hold eye contact with him as he slowly ruts his hips against yours, his lips parted as breathy groans slip past. When you start to whimper and moan, he speeds up, his pace becoming almost animalistic in nature.

The tip of his fat cock hits a spot that makes you see stars, and you let out a soft cry as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It feels so good, and you drag your nails down his chest because you don’t know what else to do.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip tight on your throat. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out?”

You can’t even answer him, responding with whines and moans, tears sliding down your cheeks from the pleasure. Simon smirks, fucking you faster, and you cry out.

“Didn’t think I’d fuck you dumb, sweetheart. Can’t help it can you? Cock makin’ you stupid?”

You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand moves to your clit to rub in precise circles. Your eyes glaze over and you’re gone—submitting completely to him as he fucks you with his fat cock.

Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake. Simon grunts and groans as you come on his cock, throbbing so tightly around him that you almost force him out. He simply fucks you harder, pressing against your cervix as your juices gush out of your cunt and you whine out, hips jolting.

Simon moves his fingers from your clit to your face, wiping your tears away and leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is hot and surprisingly sweet, and when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Good fuckin’ girl. My girl. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up so good, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his arm hooking through your leg to open you up wider. His hips slap against yours, his breathy moans hitting your skin softly.

“Please, Simon,” you breathe out, voice catching as he fucks into you. “Need it. Please.”

That’s all it takes for Simon to crumble, moaning out curses and your name as his cock throbs inside of you. He gives one, two, three more thrusts before he buries his fat cock inside you, tip against your cervix, and you can feel his hot seed pumping inside of you.

He thrusts lazily for a moment before sliding out of you, pulling you to his chest. Your lips meet in a sweet, lazy kiss, and you feel his cum dripping out of you. Simon’s fingers trace down your back, and he looks at you so delicately, he’s afraid you might break. His hand moves to cup your face, thumb brushing right underneath your eyes. Then he utters four words that make your heart stop.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

—————————————

see this one shot’s counterpart here

[justasadboi]

And like everyone else can need help but I can’t. And everyone else has needs but I can’t. I swear to fucking god I’m just like picturing myself moving to Florida just to fucking over dose at this point like idfc anymore. Like I’d rather be a fucking tweaker than be here and be like this. I don’t wanna be the new person at my job again and I don’t wanna have to learn an entirely new area again and I’m freaking tf out about that but no one seems to care about that at All so that’s just fucking lovellyyyyyyyyyyyy. Like when I say I’m a fucking star that’s what I mean. You look at a star and say wow how coo but does anyone actually help the stars? No they study them after they fucking die. Like is that what’s gonna fucking happen to me ur just gonna study my fucking brain when I die and sit around crying I wish I could’ve done more and freaking tf out for no fucking reason like me fucjing dying would be shocking. Would you be shocked? Cause if anyone around me fucking killed themselves I wouldn’t be even slightly surprised at all. Everyone can ducking do it that’s what free will is. We all have free will everything makes sense when you just open ur fucjing mind up a tiny fucking but. But no one knows how to do that they just know how to cry and complain and think about them fucking selves. So like what the fuck ever I don’t care anymore it’s all fucking bulkshit people acting like I’m fucking stupid like sure okay I’m ducking stupid but I have an open fucking mind which I guess no one truly fucking understand because when you don’t have an open mind you can not comprehend a single fucking thing

1+1 y’all we all know what that means pay attention wtf

[noirtek]

i dreamt about a boy i know last night

[whumpacabra]

Day 15: “Who did this to you?”

Angst, knife wounds, bruises, rope burns, scars, shivering, crying, brief fear of homophobic hate crimes, vaguely referenced internalized homophobia, referenced death of a minor, referenced murder, firearm mention, implied past torture

[Directly follows Mouse]

Jackson was going to be in so much trouble for dipping before back-up could arrive. He was going to be in trouble for frisking a corpse without gloves. He was going to be in trouble for forgetting to re-enable his comm when chasing after a target of unknown threat level.

But mostly, Jackson thought he would be in trouble for taking that target to a quaint hotel at the edge of the city. If he was a less valuable agent, he might not be allowed to get away with a stunt like this.

The walk was long, cold, and dreary - at least Jackson’s heavy trench coat kept everything but his head dry. The stranger - ‘Wolf’ - didn’t seem to mind the weather, or at the very least didn’t complain and wonder aloud why they couldn’t flag down a taxi. He always kept a pace and a half behind Jackson, just out of arms reach. The same way he had followed Agent Smith when Jackson watched them from afar.

Curious.

Half the reason Jackson was willing to get in trouble was this stranger’s curiosities. The gun he had shot Smith with was Smith’s own weapon - Wolf himself appeared to be completely unarmed. (Not that a man of his physique needed a weapon to be lethal.) That was the first curiosity. The second was…everything after Jackson opened the closet door. He expected an ambush - a trap made from expired chemicals or improvised weapons. Not a man curled on the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible. Like a child hiding from a wrathful parent.

Jackson still wasn’t completely sure what a freelancer was, but it sure as hell couldn’t be this - skulking behind him like a shadow, avoiding eye contact, speaking so low he almost couldn’t understand the man. Command hadn’t been forthcoming on his identity - and Jackson knew they were keeping him in the dark, at least until the mission was done.

He was curious.

It wouldn’t kill him.

Probably.

—

The hotel wasn’t the best, but it was nice enough. Low profile, but off Command’s active radar for illegal activity hot-spots. Any good agent worth their salt had a few personal fake IDs, just in case. They wouldn’t be found here, not anytime soon.

“You can clean up first, I’m sure you could use the hot water more than me.” Jackson flashed a smile, but Wolf’s expression hardened as he nodded in reply, stalking to the washroom like a soldier on a mission.

Another curiosity.

Aside from a well disguised limp, Wolf moved like a soldier. He didn’t have the purposeful poise of an agent - American or otherwise. He took orders quite seriously. Wolf hadn’t moved since he and Jackson entered the room, as if waiting for instruction. Blunt, to the point, comfortable in a hierarchy - now that didn’t sound like a runaway spy’s associate.

The bathroom door locked, and Jackson turned to the bed with a sigh. Of course they only had singles left. He paid for a couples room, even if it left his skin buzzing. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but his paranoia was acutely aware of how the secretary had raised a brow at his refusal for separate rooms.

(God, what did Wolf think of that?)

(...)

(What did they care? It was 2004 for God’s sake.)

(…)

(He still felt like the eyes of others always seemed to know what he was.)

Jackson tossed the duvet and the spare pillow to the ground. He could sleep on the floor just fine. He didn’t want to make Wolf uncomfortable. (And a small voice in his head whispered he didn’t want to give Wolf any more reason to kill him. How easy it would be for Wolf to kill him here, alone, without witnesses, and for his death to be brushed off as just another murdered poof.)

The agent turned out his coat pockets, setting what he had collected from the dead American on the bedside desk.

A room service receipt - it matched the hotel he had been staying at, but the wrong room number. Smith certainly seemed the type to choose two rooms for two people, but the sheer scale of the bill - the wine, the dinners - it didn’t meet the income of a spy in hiding. He had friends in high places (literally - Jackson would have to case the penthouse tomorrow).

The hotel room key was additional confirmation that Smith was likely traveling within the hotel. It was for the room Jackson had been stalking the last few days. The blinds were always drawn, but he could see light and movement from time to time.

The third item he snagged from the corpse was…odd. It looked like a car’s key fob, or a small, oddly shaped television remote. It only had four buttons. Unthinking, he pointed it at the television in the room, and clicked the most well worn button.

The yelp from the bathroom startled him - more so because he hadn’t expected to hear from his quiet guest. It hadn’t been particularly loud, but it had sounded distinctly pained. The thud that followed was equally concerning.

Jackson bolted to the door, stopping himself from trying the handle he knew was locked. He knocked softly, trying to keep his voice even.

“Wolf? Is everything alright?” When no reply came, he pressed his ear to the door. The sharp, agonized breathing between sobs was enough to spur him into action. “Wolf I’m going to unlock and open the door if you don’t say something.” His lock picking tools were easily slotted into the door’s mechanism. He had it unlocked, but he knocked again. “Wolf, are you alright?” The silence was deafening. “I’m coming in - please say something if you’re…”

The sight shocked Jackson to silence.

It shocked him to being 15 again. 15 and finding the corpse of a girl he had shared classes with stuffed behind the bleachers, obscenities carved into her bloodied and bruised flesh. That moment had led him here, more than a decade later. A professional MI6 agent looking down at a man beaten and bloodied that very same way, but by some cruel miracle still alive.

Jackson dropped to his knees, still processing the flesh in front of him. Bruises mottled from aged yellow to fresh blue along Wolf’s ribs, skin marred by scars and old burns. Cuts were tallied on his shoulder - like someone was keeping score - and the small, circular burns that trailed Wolf’s forearms were difficult to see against the thick bands of bruising from too-tight restraints and red rope burn. Wolf was kneeling next to the tub, keeled over with his back to Jackson. Between the blood and the bruises, the agent could make out two words etched across Wolf’s shoulder blades:

“BAD DOG”

Under the flickering fluorescent light, Jackson couldn’t read what else was carved across Wolf’s back, but those bloodied letters were cut deep into the muscle. Jackson let his eyes wander the room, finding Wolf’s rain soaked jacket and thin t-shirt neatly folded on the toilet seat. But Jackson’s eyes were once against drawn to Wolf when a violent shiver wracked his bare torso. The words contracted and stretched, weeping anew with fresh blood.

Unthinking, he let a shaking hand graze against the butchered carving before him. His words were soft, but the pity blooming in his chest made them waver with overwhelming compassion.

“Who did this to you?”

The trembling body under his fingertips stilled, and reality came crashing down on him as Jackson froze in turn. Wolf sat up slowly, broad back straightened until he sat taller than Jackson. (Blood ran in rivulets from the letters.) Dark eyes peered over his bloodied shoulder, damp with tears and expression unreadable.

Jackson was just about to jump to his feet, to mention that he had a medkit with a sterile suture needle, when Wolf lunged at him.

His brief panic at the sudden movement faded quickly as he realized what was happening. Strong arms had wrapped around him like a vice, but they were shaking - hands desperate and grasping at the back of Jackson’s shirt like he would dissolve without the contact. Jackson held Wolf’s head to his chest as he sobbed. He couldn’t touch his back without hurting him, and right now, Wolf just needed a shoulder to cry on. Jackson carded his fingers through sweaty, tangled hair and hummed soft reassurances.

Any thought of sating his curiosity tonight was discarded.

It didn’t matter who had done this, not right now. All that mattered right now was that they weren’t here.

[Directly before New Tricks]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

[dylsluvrs]

mdni! 18+

JUST ONE MORE

simon’s hands held your hips steadily as his cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. even with your own height his body almost completely envelopes yours, casting a huge shadow over you. “tha’s it, lovie. right there.” your hands are braced across his chest, pink nails digging into the skin leaving crescent marks across his already scarred flesh.

“s-si. mmmf. can’t..can’t take anymore.” he’d made you cum a record of four times already, and your body was beginning to falter on top of him. this only seemed to spur him on, as his hips thrusted up once more, cock hitting impossibly deep. every thrust kissed your cervix and massaged your sweet spot, and all you could do was drool and whine as you let him use you.

“jus’ one more. one more f’me, love. then i’ll fill you up, yeah?” you moan again, that tight coil in your stomach threatening to snap with each sharp thrust of his hips. he always knew exactly how to make you come undone, leaving you a whimpering, sopping mess on his cock.

he shifted slightly, his fat length hitting a new angle that made you squeal. the room was quiet apart from your desperate whines and the squelch of your cunt. his hand came down to slide between your two bodies, fingers finding your puffy clit and rolling the bud between his fingers. “thas it, feels good, hm? make a mess of that cock and i’ll fill you up.” all you could do was stutter out his name as you came down his length, your slick gathering on both your thighs.

“s-si! no more, please. jus’…jus’ want you…” you could barely string a sentence together, no coherent thoughts being formed in your mind as he seemed to piston even faster into you. soft groans had started to leave his lips now, and you knew he was close. his fingers were digging bruises into your hips, as he held you firmly down on his own.

with one last groan, he came. filling you up with his cum and holding you there. his hips were stuttering and you were whining as your head fell to his shoulder, completely fucked out. “let’s get you cleaned up, lovie.”

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Simon Riley (Part 2):

Having a giggle/chuckle fest almost every time you are intimate. It first happened at the beginning of your relationship when you would giggle every time you two kissed. It opened the floodgates, had let that nervous energy out, and Simon was right there chuckling with you. ("Heh—aw, fuck me.")

Swearing up and down that you're gonna fuck each other's brains out but as soon as you hit the bed, you and Simon are out like a light. The last time this happened, he was supposed to go down on you, but the next thing you know, you woke up to him fast asleep with his head on your stomach.

Kissing the bridge of his crooked nose and Simon turning into putty every time. Hell, kissing any and every dent, bruise, and scar, and making your man melt.

A nice round of horizontal tango turning into a cuddle session after you comforted Simon through a charley horse. Poor baby.

Initially making the telly watch you two make sex but turns out whatever you're watching was pretty decent after all so you guys are back to watching the telly again.

Getting hot and heavy one time but you were so intrigued with the mole you discovered on Simon's inner thigh that you spent the next half-hour or so trying to find other moles on his body.

Telling Simon that you "always wanted to do this" and when you get him hot, bothered, and hard, it turns out what you always wanted to do was measure him. His disappointment was immeasurable... even if he was interested to know the number.

Twinning in some way, shape, or fashion whenever you're out together.

Talking mad shit about his snoring but let him tell it, he doesn't say shit when you take up about 80% of the bed, covers, and sleep under him.

Speaking of talking shit, having disagreements like every couple does and when you go to bed, you're angrily cuddling each other. And yes, Simon still wants your kisses in the morning, even if you two are still mad at each other. Simon doesn't give a shit, you're still gonna love on him, dammit. And him on you.

Being mad with Simon when he arrived too late to get the creepy crawler that was harassing you. Harassing you by doing what it does best: be a creepy crawler. Simon tells you you'll have to conquer your fear one day. You tell him to conquer the couch tonight lmao.

Agreeing to disagree about the superior ice cream flavor in the house. It's too bad there's not any of his favorite ice cream in the freezer. There's some of yours, though. Why? You didn't get any because it was so superior that you wouldn't "dare sully it with your hands". Cue the judgemental stare and him eating YOUR ice cream afterward. Rude.

Scaring the ever-living shit out of Simon on the rare occasions he gets to sleep in. He woke up to you sitting up in bed with his mask and paint on. Oh, and he calls bullshit. He did not nearly fall out the bed. Nor did he jump. Okay, Simon.

Chilling and drinking with Simon. Finding out he gets hot and sweaty pretty easily and off comes his clothes. Waking up hungover the next morning and you're the big spoon to a naked and equally hungover Simon. Choosing to do fuck all but sleep it off that day.

Playfully calling or referring to him as the Missus, especially in front of your co-workers. When they finally meet Simon and ask him who he is, he replies in pure deadpan Ghost fashion: "The Missus".

[sunsetsimon]

blue collar simon ♡ because i'm going insane

pt 2 here

☼ he's waking up around 4:30am most days, due to starting at a new job site that gives him a longer commute. he's grumbly when his alarm blares, quickly turning it off and sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute to stare off and come to. his footsteps are quiet as he heads to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and giving his face a rinse to clear it from sleep. simon makes sure to keep his hair short, only needing to run his fingers through it to tame a few wild pieces that stick up on the side.

☼ most mornings you get up with him, his alarm waking you up even with as quickly as he turns it off. "go back t'sleep love," he leans over, cupping your cheek lovingly as you try to blink the sleep out of your eyes.

"gonna pack your lunch si," you say, so quietly he almost doesn't hear you. he knows better than to argue though, you're already up and nothing is better than having you help him get ready for his long day.

you slip on one of his hoodies on your way downstairs, practically swimming in the fabric as it rests on your mid thighs, hands covered in the long sleeves. his heart swells, you look so cute when you're tired and stubborn, refusing to let him leave without a proper lunch.

☼ he's not able to talk much throughout the day with how busy he is. sometimes you only get a quick 2 minute call while he's scarfing down his lunch, complaining about how their project manager was being a dick that day.

"'right babe. gettin' back to it so i'll call you when i'm leaving, whenever the fuck that'll be."

"okay si. i love you, be careful."

"always am. love you."

sometimes you get lucky with a random picture of something on the site, having no idea what it is you can only respond with a "what am i looking at?"

"fuckin' dumbass rookie can't mark out a straight line to save his fuckin' life."

whatever the hell that means. simon thinks it's funny though.

☼ comes home with new cuts and bruises everyday, the wrap on one of his fingers soaked with dirt and blood. his hands are cut up and scarred, calloused and rough to the touch but you still love them, those hands provide everything for you. you're constantly having to remind him to clean under his nails after a long day though, refusing to be touched until they're squeaky clean.

☼ he never gets home at the same time, a supposed-to-be 10 hour shift can quickly turn into a 12 or 13 depending on how much work needs to be done. not a week goes by when he doesn't have overtime, and though he makes a lot of money, he's fucking exhausted when he gets home. lazily unlacing and kicking his boots off at the door while coming in, practically with a limp, his knees and feet fighting to not give out from pure exhaustion.

still finds the energy to shove his dirty hands under your shirt though when he catches you at the stove preparing him a plate. his unkempt stubble scratches your neck as he inhales your clean, addicting scent. planting soft kisses along the skin, you almost melt into him until you smell him, dust and sweat clouding your nose.

"ugh simon! you can't be all over me while you're dirty," you whine, trying to pull away from his tightening grip on your hips.

"can't help it when y'look so damn good. missed you all day," he grumbles, pulling your ass back against his growing bulge in his work pants, thrusting against you through layers of clothing.

"eat and take a shower first, then we can talk," you give him another shove - much to his dismay. apparently he wasn't as tired as he thought.