who-me-a-simp-never

[who-me-a-simp-never]

i want to talk abt my first ever cnc scene.. which wasn't to long ago

it was very overwhelming at first and he could tell. i was literally shaking 💀 but he was very kind and made sure i was comfortable before he even sat on my bed.

it was a simple setting, young girl invites a older man over for a movie, jus a movie she thought..

we laid down in bed and got the movie started.

not even 10 mins into the movie i hear "you shouldn't of done this little girl."

and my heart drops, idrk why bc i knew what he was here for but it was still so scary to hear.

next thing i know i'm pinned to the bed and he's violently kissing me, im squirming trying to get away from him but he's so strong, i cant even move an inch.

that's when real fear started to creep into my chest, maybe i wasn't ready for this? we've talked a lot of safe words but i wasn't gonna use it. i liked the fear.

almost immediately i liked the fear actually , i liked that i was terrified of what he was going to do to me.

he grabbed my face and said "are u gonna be a good girl for daddy?"

i didn't say anything and he slapped me ! slapped the shit out of me fr. we also talked abt doing that but i didn't think he would, he seemed to much of a nice guy. but again i immediately liked it.

"are you going to be a good little girl for me?" he asked again, i nodded even tho i was terrified.

he smiled and started to take off my clothes. i was to scared to move fr, i didn't know if i could do this.

even tho i didn't think i was ready ... he was. he takes off his pants and grabs me by the hair and forces his big cock into my mouth... oh yeah the guy was huge !

i've given head before but this was nothing like the usual. there was hair pulling, slapping, and sm choking.

finally after what feels like ages of him raping my teen mouth he pushes me back, forcefully pushes my legs open and eats me out. im very sensitives sometimes and this was one of those times so i couldn't help myself but moan and grind on his face while begging him to stop. i kept trying to push his head back but it only made him mad which meant harder slaps that made my cunt so wet. at that point i was flinching every time he moved.

after what seems like forever of my eating my cunt he gets up again, grabs me, and forces himself inbetween my legs. before i could even process anything he pushes himself in. it was so easy for a teen being raped, i was soaked at that point.

i kept trying to push him away from me but nothing worked. he kept calling me a dirty slut for getting so wet for his rapist cock.

he ended up cumming in me without my permission (we talked a lil abt it but he didn't bring it up that he was actually going to). it was hot but i was freaking the fuck out inside and all he had to say was

"youre gonna have ur rapist's baby"

(19 x 44)

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Wanna have my legs forced open and my hands tied so I look like a pretty little present.

I wanna see the toy he is holding in his hands and I know it's too big for my little hole, so I try to squirm away but it's useless.

Want him to grab my hips and all he says to my dripping wet pussy is "Shhh, I'll make it fit."

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Sleeping next to your dom, they partially wake up in the morning and look at you still totally asleep, your arms draped over them. Bleary-eyed, they still think you look so cute lying there, so they grab you and pull you on top of them, your head now resting on their chest. You must have been having a wet dream, because they can feel the dampness of your panties pressing against their bulge. Still half asleep themselves, they start to move you back and forth, grinding you against them as they get hard beneath you. The feeling invades your dreams and you start to instinctively rock your hips back and forth on your own. The dream you're having feels so good, you don't even realize when your soaked panties are pulled aside and the tip of their cock presses against your pussy.

Still lost in that dream, a moan escapes your throat as they begin to lower you down on them, their length stretching you apart to fit them. They go slowly, gradually letting their cock fill you up, until they pull you down the last couple inches, the sudden impact jolting your eyes open. They hold you gently, petting your hair, whispering, "shhhhh it's okay baby, I've got you, go back to sleep." Your eyes close again, but now that cock dominates your dreams, and you start to shift your little hips on top of it, your body acting on its own. Your Dom keeps one hand on your head, petting your hair, while the other gently presses your lower back as they slowly thrust up into you.

Eventually, your soft moans become too much, and your Dom starts to move their hips faster, more aggressive, lost in their own half-asleep fantasies of you, until the force and movement rocks you awake again. This time though, they have no mind to comfort you back to sleep, and as you start to raise your head from their chest and realize what's happening to you, the hands become more aggressive. The hand on your head moves to your neck, wrapping around it and holding you in place, while the one on your lower back now grips your ass, shifting it back and forth as they pound into you.

Rough.

Primal.

Animalistic.

It doesn't occur to you how long they were taking advantage of you in your sleep until you feel yourself shake and convulse from the first orgasm, the one they had been building in you for god knows how long. Now you're awake, but still unable to do anything to fight back, the shock of waking up like this and their strong hands holding you against them as they use you. Tears start to well in your eyes, even though it feels so...good.

Good.

Yes, it feels good.

No matter how much you gasp and try to protest, your body knows that it wants this, and so your hips start moving on their own again. You're doing the work for them, so the hand comes away from your ass and joins the other one at your neck, both now wrapped tightly around your throat. Your vision starts to get blurry at the edges as your own hands try to pull these ones away from you, but it's all you can do to hold on to them while your body bounces on that cock, betraying you completely. The tears fall fully from your eyes, streaming down your face and falling onto your doms chest. You look now and see that they're no longer half asleep either, their eyes intensely locked with yours as they smile at your tears. "Shhh it's okay baby, I've got you, go back to sleep." As their grip tightens, both your hips and theirs move faster and harder. The last thing you feel before unconsciousness takes you, is them pounding up into you one last time, flooding you with cum until you fall forward, back onto their chest, asleep once again.

[who-me-a-simp-never]

masturbating to the thought of someone is much better than porn

[who-me-a-simp-never]

i really need to jerk off on her face while she stares up at me with those needy puppy eyes and her tongue out

[who-me-a-simp-never]

i woke up last night to master playing with my cunt, sliding his fingers over my clit and into my hole. I was sleepy and tried to push his hand away but he wouldn’t let me because I needed to be used. “hush baby, it’s only going to hurt if you don’t let me warm you up.” I lazily spread my legs further apart while he climbed on top of me and gently rubbed his cock against my pussy, making me soaked within a few seconds. “there we go, pretty girl. are you ready?” i slowly nodded yes, still too tired to fully respond. barely sliding the tip in, he growled in my ear “that’s what I like to hear.” I gasped as he thrust himself into me, digging my fingers into his back. first he went slow and hard, the throb of his cock making me greedy so I started bucking my hips with his in hopes to get off. “no no, baby. you don’t get to finish yet. you have a long night of being filled with cum ahead of you.” he started going faster and not as deep, holding my hips down as he pounded into me. I couldn’t help but moan and beg to be allowed to finish too. eventually I felt him swell inside of my pussy and unload his seed into me. god it felt so hot and full, I couldn’t help but rub my clit with my hand. “you know how much your master likes watching you play with yourself, but tonight i’m going to be the one playing with your little whore body.” he flipped me onto my stomach to pull my hips up to him and plugged my ass with a toy. a few moments after he set it to the highway setting, he started fucking my cunt again. it felt so good to be used, i couldn’t stop myself from drooling and letting him take full control of my body.

[who-me-a-simp-never]

𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗞 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬 *+:｡.｡

summary. summer romances with jjk men. | wc. 2.5k+

cw/ tw. fem!reader, age gap, possessive behavior, dark-lite (toji’s is a little dark), aged-up character, shy!reader, manipulation, obsessive behavior, pet names (ex. baby, sweetheart), friends to lovers, fwb, sharing (but is it really if gojo wants you to himself???), intended for 18+ readers

featuring. geto, toji, yuuji, gojo & sukuna

an. just a lil something old today, comments and reblogs are appreciated ༉‧₊˚.

𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢 ༊*·˚

It’s an odd request. Geto says it doesn’t mean anything—don’t worry, friends do this all the time—and you’re tempted to point out that you’re not exactly friends, or perhaps you’re not entirely in tune with the ins and outs of being a roommate.

You think you agree because, after three months of living together, he’s comfortable and familiar, and you admit that it’s kind of nice after a long day of work. Just to be held for a while. 

It’s just cuddling—that’s what he told you.

The shift happens when you get up one night to use the bathroom and come back to find him lazily blinking himself awake. He doesn’t say anything when you crawl under the covers—not until you settle into a spot that’s apparently too far away for his liking. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles sleepily, looping one long arm around your waist and dragging you across the sheets with too much energy for someone who’d just woken up.

He rearranges your body easily, bringing one of your thighs over his hip and pressing one of his up between your own. Then he pushes up your shirt—something you notice he’s been steadily testing recently, seeing what you’ll let him get away with—until you’re exposed to the warm summer air blowing in from his open window. Except, unlike the times before, you’re not wearing a bra.

It’s probably a good thing that he can’t see your face where he has his buried against your chest. If he did, he’d tease you about the surprise and bewilderment bleeding onto your features like ink to paper.

You squeak when he presses a kiss between your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue. When your hips shift against his thigh, you tell yourself it’s only to get comfortable, anything to keep from getting ahead of yourself.

This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just cuddling. Just—

Geto makes a sleepy noise, his mouth popping off with a wet sound, filthy and depraved. “You like this?”

You swallow hard enough that your throat clicks. “No.”

“Liar,” he mumbles, and you don’t even notice him squeezing his hand between your bodies, not until a knuckle presses against where there’s an embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, his fingertips searching for—

"W-wait! That's my—"

"Clit?" His chuckle is a hushed little thing that makes your cheeks warm. “You’re really wet for someone who’s not turned on.”

“I’m not,” you whimper, every ounce of conviction washed away from one exploratory pass of a finger.

“I’m just making it better, okay?”

Geto hooks his finger into the gusset of your underwear, pulling them away from your pussy, and moving his thigh so you’re skin on skin. You preen, wiggling your hips, trying to spread your legs a little wider, anything to get closer.

“There you go,” he says with a mouthful of your breast, content, his eyes still softly shut.

In the end, you try not to think about it too much and eventually cum against his thigh with a high-pitched gasp, leaving you limp and sleepy. You don’t dare look down at him because you know if you do, you’ll find the smirk that you feel curling his lips in triumph as if he’s just proved a point. 

Instead, you close your eyes and decide to save that problem for another day.

𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 ༊*·˚

Fresh-eyed with a shiny degree hanging above your desk in your cheap shoe-box apartment, those first few weeks of summer in a new place slowly bleeds together.

They're the same. They’re distinct. 

It’s a whirlwind of party dresses, cotton sheets covered in cherry-red lipstick stains, and long drives looking up at the city lights with the windows down on the weekends as you speed down Main. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud surrounded by iridescent signs one moment and gunmetal skies the next, almost similar to how things change in fast movies.

There’s only that tiny break on Sundays when you’re drinking your coffee and solving a crossword in the morning paper, softly humming to a song on the radio, before it starts all over again.

For a while, it’s nice until it’s suddenly different, and you find yourself thinking about home again.

If there’s one thing you miss about living in a smaller town, surrounded by people you know and cozy little shops, it’d be how easy it was to point out the red flags when it came to new people. In the city—something you’re destined to find out—the signs are slightly more murky, like looking through a fogged-up lens.

It’s on a night when you’ve had one too many martinis and laughing with your friend when you look over and notice him sitting by himself in the corner of the little dive bar. His gaze, dark from the low light of the room, is already on you, and you wonder how you haven’t spotted him sooner.

He’s tall and handsome, almost in a way that feels off-limits—much older than the guys you usually go for—with a crisp, black button-down stretching over broad shoulders.

You give him a shy smile over your shoulder. He raises an eyebrow and gestures you over with a flick of his fingers.

That’s all it takes to get wrapped up in a sticky thread of red.

He’s intense in all aspects of the word. The first time he fucks you, you whine about how big his cock is, that it’s not going to fit, and his hips shutter against yours. 

“Such a filthy word in that sweet, pretty mouth,” he murmurs. “But look at you taking it, anyway.”

Then he notches a thumb in your ass—a place nobody has dared to touch before—and makes you cum so hard your legs shake.

He’ll hold your hand in his when you cross the street and buys you pretty things like soft leather bags and decorates your neck with sparkling gems, his favorite being the one with a gold cursive ‘T’ dangling from a dainty chain. Loves to have you on your back while you wear it, thrusting into you hard and fast, watching with bottomless eyes as it sinks and moves against your neck.

You never ask how he affords such expensive things, from his shiny sports car to his array of thick silver watches, because you don’t think it’s your place to know when this feels very temporary. A summer fling meant to melt away. 

That’s how it was always supposed to be.

But then you start noticing things: the bruises on his knuckles, the one room in his house you’re not allowed in—it’s just my hobby stuff, baby; don’t worry about it—how he gets cagey anytime a guy looks at you, even if it’s incidentally.

It’d be easy to pretend that you don’t notice if only you hadn’t seen him threaten a waiter after he smiled at you.

Exactly how things shouldn’t be.

That weekend, you go out with your friends, dance with a few guys, and go home feeling a little shaky in your heels. You flip on the kitchen light and squeak when you find Toji sitting on your couch, his mouth set into a hard line.

Your lip trembles. “How did you—”

“Did you have fun tonight, baby?”

You’re unsure how to answer, so you don’t.

It’s different that night when he has your legs pressed all the way up beside your ears, his hand wrapped around your throat in place of the necklace on your dresser, wrenching an orgasm out of you that makes your abs hurt and sends black spots through your vision.

"I'll tell you what's—ah shit, clench up again for me—going to happen. I'm going to fuck you nice and full, tuck you into bed with my cum leaking out of this cute little cunt, and you're not going to talk to other boys again. Y'got that?"

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗝𝗜 ༊*·˚

Mom tells you he's been helping them around the house while you’ve been away for school, a nice boy whose parents bought the house across the street. 

Despite her forewarning about the stranger working in the yard, the first time you meet him, you’re unloading your car with boxes you brought from your dorm and nearly drop your things in surprise when he comes walking from the back of the house in nothing but sneakers, shorts, and a baseball cap.

“Sorry.” He wipes sweat off his forehead with the discarded shirt in his hand. “Didn’t think anyone was home.”

“All good.” You clear your throat, shrugging.

The crooked grin he gives you, a dimple on his left cheek, makes your heart speed up.

Pretty.

You start to notice how he’s there every other day: tending to Mom’s tedious rose garden, cleaning the gutters, trimming the hedges by the pool, and helping Dad fix the shingles on the roof. You’ve only talked to him a handful of times since that first day, once to bring him the lemonade Mom made, then while sitting in one of the pool chairs and putting sunscreen on.

It no longer catches you off guard to find him around the house; what he says next does.

“Want help with that?”

You swallow. “What?”

He tilts his head, shielding his face from the sun. “You missed a spot on your back.”

You don’t even bother thinking about if he’s telling the truth before you nod your head and turn around for him. “Oh…um, sure.”

It’s a bit silly of you to believe that’s how it’d play out: him making an innocent offer and going back to weeding the garden. You’re only happy your parents are at work; otherwise, they’d see the nice boy who fixes up their house, folding you in half in one of their too-expensive chairs.

“That feel good, huh?” He groans, roughly bouncing you in his lap like he’s using you for his pleasure, his ball cap falling off his head so he can mouth at your neck. “Shit. You’re so warm and tight inside.”

A whimper slips past your spit-slick lips, hair in utter disarray, swimsuit rumpled and peeled aside, looking utterly debauched. You watch how he can’t seem to decide where to look. His eyes flit from your mouth, and breasts, and where his cock sinks into your cunt, and when you slip a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, his jaw falls open.

It only takes a few strokes for you to sob, your entire body trembling.

“Are you cumming? Oh fuck, you’re so pretty. I can’t believe I made you cum—”

Afterward, when he pulls out and sees how puffy your pussy is, he looks like a sad puppy and crawls down the chair to kiss it better. He licks you clean, and you find yourself cumming against his tongue, this one a little less intense but has your fingers fisting into his hair anyway.

And much later, after he leaves, you realize as you lay there—his cum steadily dripping out of you onto the plastic seat of the pool chair—you still don't know his name.

𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 & 𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗔 ༊*·˚

He’s attending one of your father’s summer company parties when he sees you in person for the first time.

The glossy photo perched on the edge of your father’s desk in his office doesn’t do you justice.

You walk onto the deck, sundress swaying around your knees, smiling with your whole mouth when a guy covered in tattoos wraps an arm around your shoulders. Gojo watches him squeeze your cheeks together and kiss you in a way that shouldn’t be allowed, with your parents mingling close by—how you look up at him with visible adoration on your face.

He finds himself thinking about it later when he’s in his big empty house with nothing but the soft humming of his air conditioner and a list of work emails for nightly company. 

Standing in the middle of his entryway, he wonders what it’d be like to have your bright smile and pastel dresses welcome him home, the smell of your sweet shampoo filling his house.

So when your dad calls a few weeks later to ask if you can crash at his place until you’re steady on your feet—it’s a new city; she just needs time to settle—he cleans out one of his spare bedrooms that night without thinking twice about it. 

He tells himself he’s doing the right thing, and it’s not about fulfilling some fantasy of his. But when he comes home after a long day of work and finds you making dinner in the kitchen in one of your many lace-trimmed dresses, something stirs in his chest. 

It’s imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Clear as day when he’s in the shower later and strokes his cock to the image of your breasts straining against thin floral fabrics and the curve of your ass barely peeking out from under the hem of the skirt after you put some food into the oven.

There’s still the issue about your boyfriend.

"I don't like how the old fuck stares at you," Gojo hears him—Sukuna—tell you one night over speakerphone.

“He’s not old,” you argue. “He’s nice, and I like him.”

It’s an ugly thing that rears its head in him and has him thinking, plotting, of tangible ways he can have you all to himself.

It happens in a way that he doesn’t expect, but he thinks it makes it all the better; how your boyfriend gets so easily worked up about a few things Gojo says:

“She’s never going to cum like that.”

Sukuna scoffs, his fingers still trapped against your clit. “You think you can do better, old man?”

Gojo ignores him and pats his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart."

You bite your lip and look at Sukuna hesitantly, who pulls you into a kiss meant to show possession before letting you slide off him, and you crawl across the couch to perch yourself in Gojo’s lap. He’s still wearing his tie from work, and you stare at it for a second until he cups your cheek to tilt your chin up, thumb pressing into the middle of your lips until it slips in and strokes along your tongue, giving you something to focus on.

“Listen, if I make you cum, I get to fuck you however I want,” he says, holding your chin to keep you from glancing at your boyfriend again. He can treat you better, make you cry on his fingers, his mouth, his cock—however you want it. He’s sure of it.

You try to speak around his thumb. “But I want—I want—,” vowels and consonants trailing into nothing.

He laughs. “Baby, how can you want something that you can’t even ask for, hm?”

And he thinks—ah, but you’ll figure it out, his wants, his desires, where you’ll fit in his life—just as your boyfriend starts stroking himself to the sound of your moans by another man’s doing.

[who-me-a-simp-never]

𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗞 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬 *+:｡.｡

summary. summer romances with jjk men. | wc. 2.5k+

cw/ tw. fem!reader, age gap, possessive behavior, dark-lite (toji’s is a little dark), aged-up character, shy!reader, manipulation, obsessive behavior, pet names (ex. baby, sweetheart), friends to lovers, fwb, sharing (but is it really if gojo wants you to himself???), intended for 18+ readers

featuring. geto, toji, yuuji, gojo & sukuna

an. just a lil something old today, comments and reblogs are appreciated ༉‧₊˚.

𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢 ༊*·˚

It’s an odd request. Geto says it doesn’t mean anything—don’t worry, friends do this all the time—and you’re tempted to point out that you’re not exactly friends, or perhaps you’re not entirely in tune with the ins and outs of being a roommate.

You think you agree because, after three months of living together, he’s comfortable and familiar, and you admit that it’s kind of nice after a long day of work. Just to be held for a while. 

It’s just cuddling—that’s what he told you.

The shift happens when you get up one night to use the bathroom and come back to find him lazily blinking himself awake. He doesn’t say anything when you crawl under the covers—not until you settle into a spot that’s apparently too far away for his liking. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles sleepily, looping one long arm around your waist and dragging you across the sheets with too much energy for someone who’d just woken up.

He rearranges your body easily, bringing one of your thighs over his hip and pressing one of his up between your own. Then he pushes up your shirt—something you notice he’s been steadily testing recently, seeing what you’ll let him get away with—until you’re exposed to the warm summer air blowing in from his open window. Except, unlike the times before, you’re not wearing a bra.

It’s probably a good thing that he can’t see your face where he has his buried against your chest. If he did, he’d tease you about the surprise and bewilderment bleeding onto your features like ink to paper.

You squeak when he presses a kiss between your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue. When your hips shift against his thigh, you tell yourself it’s only to get comfortable, anything to keep from getting ahead of yourself.

This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just cuddling. Just—

Geto makes a sleepy noise, his mouth popping off with a wet sound, filthy and depraved. “You like this?”

You swallow hard enough that your throat clicks. “No.”

“Liar,” he mumbles, and you don’t even notice him squeezing his hand between your bodies, not until a knuckle presses against where there’s an embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, his fingertips searching for—

"W-wait! That's my—"

"Clit?" His chuckle is a hushed little thing that makes your cheeks warm. “You’re really wet for someone who’s not turned on.”

“I’m not,” you whimper, every ounce of conviction washed away from one exploratory pass of a finger.

“I’m just making it better, okay?”

Geto hooks his finger into the gusset of your underwear, pulling them away from your pussy, and moving his thigh so you’re skin on skin. You preen, wiggling your hips, trying to spread your legs a little wider, anything to get closer.

“There you go,” he says with a mouthful of your breast, content, his eyes still softly shut.

In the end, you try not to think about it too much and eventually cum against his thigh with a high-pitched gasp, leaving you limp and sleepy. You don’t dare look down at him because you know if you do, you’ll find the smirk that you feel curling his lips in triumph as if he’s just proved a point. 

Instead, you close your eyes and decide to save that problem for another day.

𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 ༊*·˚

Fresh-eyed with a shiny degree hanging above your desk in your cheap shoe-box apartment, those first few weeks of summer in a new place slowly bleeds together.

They're the same. They’re distinct. 

It’s a whirlwind of party dresses, cotton sheets covered in cherry-red lipstick stains, and long drives looking up at the city lights with the windows down on the weekends as you speed down Main. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud surrounded by iridescent signs one moment and gunmetal skies the next, almost similar to how things change in fast movies.

There’s only that tiny break on Sundays when you’re drinking your coffee and solving a crossword in the morning paper, softly humming to a song on the radio, before it starts all over again.

For a while, it’s nice until it’s suddenly different, and you find yourself thinking about home again.

If there’s one thing you miss about living in a smaller town, surrounded by people you know and cozy little shops, it’d be how easy it was to point out the red flags when it came to new people. In the city—something you’re destined to find out—the signs are slightly more murky, like looking through a fogged-up lens.

It’s on a night when you’ve had one too many martinis and laughing with your friend when you look over and notice him sitting by himself in the corner of the little dive bar. His gaze, dark from the low light of the room, is already on you, and you wonder how you haven’t spotted him sooner.

He’s tall and handsome, almost in a way that feels off-limits—much older than the guys you usually go for—with a crisp, black button-down stretching over broad shoulders.

You give him a shy smile over your shoulder. He raises an eyebrow and gestures you over with a flick of his fingers.

That’s all it takes to get wrapped up in a sticky thread of red.

He’s intense in all aspects of the word. The first time he fucks you, you whine about how big his cock is, that it’s not going to fit, and his hips shutter against yours. 

“Such a filthy word in that sweet, pretty mouth,” he murmurs. “But look at you taking it, anyway.”

Then he notches a thumb in your ass—a place nobody has dared to touch before—and makes you cum so hard your legs shake.

He’ll hold your hand in his when you cross the street and buys you pretty things like soft leather bags and decorates your neck with sparkling gems, his favorite being the one with a gold cursive ‘T’ dangling from a dainty chain. Loves to have you on your back while you wear it, thrusting into you hard and fast, watching with bottomless eyes as it sinks and moves against your neck.

You never ask how he affords such expensive things, from his shiny sports car to his array of thick silver watches, because you don’t think it’s your place to know when this feels very temporary. A summer fling meant to melt away. 

That’s how it was always supposed to be.

But then you start noticing things: the bruises on his knuckles, the one room in his house you’re not allowed in—it’s just my hobby stuff, baby; don’t worry about it—how he gets cagey anytime a guy looks at you, even if it’s incidentally.

It’d be easy to pretend that you don’t notice if only you hadn’t seen him threaten a waiter after he smiled at you.

Exactly how things shouldn’t be.

That weekend, you go out with your friends, dance with a few guys, and go home feeling a little shaky in your heels. You flip on the kitchen light and squeak when you find Toji sitting on your couch, his mouth set into a hard line.

Your lip trembles. “How did you—”

“Did you have fun tonight, baby?”

You’re unsure how to answer, so you don’t.

It’s different that night when he has your legs pressed all the way up beside your ears, his hand wrapped around your throat in place of the necklace on your dresser, wrenching an orgasm out of you that makes your abs hurt and sends black spots through your vision.

"I'll tell you what's—ah shit, clench up again for me—going to happen. I'm going to fuck you nice and full, tuck you into bed with my cum leaking out of this cute little cunt, and you're not going to talk to other boys again. Y'got that?"

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗝𝗜 ༊*·˚

Mom tells you he's been helping them around the house while you’ve been away for school, a nice boy whose parents bought the house across the street. 

Despite her forewarning about the stranger working in the yard, the first time you meet him, you’re unloading your car with boxes you brought from your dorm and nearly drop your things in surprise when he comes walking from the back of the house in nothing but sneakers, shorts, and a baseball cap.

“Sorry.” He wipes sweat off his forehead with the discarded shirt in his hand. “Didn’t think anyone was home.”

“All good.” You clear your throat, shrugging.

The crooked grin he gives you, a dimple on his left cheek, makes your heart speed up.

Pretty.

You start to notice how he’s there every other day: tending to Mom’s tedious rose garden, cleaning the gutters, trimming the hedges by the pool, and helping Dad fix the shingles on the roof. You’ve only talked to him a handful of times since that first day, once to bring him the lemonade Mom made, then while sitting in one of the pool chairs and putting sunscreen on.

It no longer catches you off guard to find him around the house; what he says next does.

“Want help with that?”

You swallow. “What?”

He tilts his head, shielding his face from the sun. “You missed a spot on your back.”

You don’t even bother thinking about if he’s telling the truth before you nod your head and turn around for him. “Oh…um, sure.”

It’s a bit silly of you to believe that’s how it’d play out: him making an innocent offer and going back to weeding the garden. You’re only happy your parents are at work; otherwise, they’d see the nice boy who fixes up their house, folding you in half in one of their too-expensive chairs.

“That feel good, huh?” He groans, roughly bouncing you in his lap like he’s using you for his pleasure, his ball cap falling off his head so he can mouth at your neck. “Shit. You’re so warm and tight inside.”

A whimper slips past your spit-slick lips, hair in utter disarray, swimsuit rumpled and peeled aside, looking utterly debauched. You watch how he can’t seem to decide where to look. His eyes flit from your mouth, and breasts, and where his cock sinks into your cunt, and when you slip a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, his jaw falls open.

It only takes a few strokes for you to sob, your entire body trembling.

“Are you cumming? Oh fuck, you’re so pretty. I can’t believe I made you cum—”

Afterward, when he pulls out and sees how puffy your pussy is, he looks like a sad puppy and crawls down the chair to kiss it better. He licks you clean, and you find yourself cumming against his tongue, this one a little less intense but has your fingers fisting into his hair anyway.

And much later, after he leaves, you realize as you lay there—his cum steadily dripping out of you onto the plastic seat of the pool chair—you still don't know his name.

𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 & 𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗔 ༊*·˚

He’s attending one of your father’s summer company parties when he sees you in person for the first time.

The glossy photo perched on the edge of your father’s desk in his office doesn’t do you justice.

You walk onto the deck, sundress swaying around your knees, smiling with your whole mouth when a guy covered in tattoos wraps an arm around your shoulders. Gojo watches him squeeze your cheeks together and kiss you in a way that shouldn’t be allowed, with your parents mingling close by—how you look up at him with visible adoration on your face.

He finds himself thinking about it later when he’s in his big empty house with nothing but the soft humming of his air conditioner and a list of work emails for nightly company. 

Standing in the middle of his entryway, he wonders what it’d be like to have your bright smile and pastel dresses welcome him home, the smell of your sweet shampoo filling his house.

So when your dad calls a few weeks later to ask if you can crash at his place until you’re steady on your feet—it’s a new city; she just needs time to settle—he cleans out one of his spare bedrooms that night without thinking twice about it. 

He tells himself he’s doing the right thing, and it’s not about fulfilling some fantasy of his. But when he comes home after a long day of work and finds you making dinner in the kitchen in one of your many lace-trimmed dresses, something stirs in his chest. 

It’s imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Clear as day when he’s in the shower later and strokes his cock to the image of your breasts straining against thin floral fabrics and the curve of your ass barely peeking out from under the hem of the skirt after you put some food into the oven.

There’s still the issue about your boyfriend.

"I don't like how the old fuck stares at you," Gojo hears him—Sukuna—tell you one night over speakerphone.

“He’s not old,” you argue. “He’s nice, and I like him.”

It’s an ugly thing that rears its head in him and has him thinking, plotting, of tangible ways he can have you all to himself.

It happens in a way that he doesn’t expect, but he thinks it makes it all the better; how your boyfriend gets so easily worked up about a few things Gojo says:

“She’s never going to cum like that.”

Sukuna scoffs, his fingers still trapped against your clit. “You think you can do better, old man?”

Gojo ignores him and pats his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart."

You bite your lip and look at Sukuna hesitantly, who pulls you into a kiss meant to show possession before letting you slide off him, and you crawl across the couch to perch yourself in Gojo’s lap. He’s still wearing his tie from work, and you stare at it for a second until he cups your cheek to tilt your chin up, thumb pressing into the middle of your lips until it slips in and strokes along your tongue, giving you something to focus on.

“Listen, if I make you cum, I get to fuck you however I want,” he says, holding your chin to keep you from glancing at your boyfriend again. He can treat you better, make you cry on his fingers, his mouth, his cock—however you want it. He’s sure of it.

You try to speak around his thumb. “But I want—I want—,” vowels and consonants trailing into nothing.

He laughs. “Baby, how can you want something that you can’t even ask for, hm?”

And he thinks—ah, but you’ll figure it out, his wants, his desires, where you’ll fit in his life—just as your boyfriend starts stroking himself to the sound of your moans by another man’s doing.

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Somnophilia with The Grabber

The Grabber x fem!reader // some hdcs 

a/n: why is he so hot gn i haven’t even seen the movie yet and i’m still thirsting over him and upset at his lack of content. also probs not my best work simply because i do not know his character very well yet tysn 

Warnings: The Grabber himself is a warning, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, unprotected sex, fingering (f.recieving), dry humping, probably a mistake or two. This is dark content, mdni. 

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3

You’d been so teasing earlier that day; sucking the egg crumbs off his thumb that he had swiped across your bottom lip, crawling on your hands and knees when he called you to him — watching him expectantly with those big doe eyes of yours.

God, you drive him crazy — whether you mean to or not.

When the thought crossed his mind; you sprawled out beneath him, body limp from the drug, eyes closed with soft moans leaving your mouth, he knew he had to try it. 

It was fairly simple. He had already made some rohypnol infused chocolates to use on boys for kidnapping, so all he needed to do was get you to eat one or two pieces — likely two, seeing as you, a grown woman, are much bigger than the previous boys he’s taken.

“Open up, doll.” The Grabber demands, voice as sweet as honey, gently placing the two chocolate tabs on your tongue. “Good girl, now swallow.” His thumb is still resting on your tongue when you close your mouth, lips wrapping softly around it as you begin to suck, allowing the chocolate square to melt and glide down your throat. Grabber releases a throaty growl, pushing his thumb the rest of the way, other hand gripping your chin – forcing you to look up at him.  “Playing a dangerous game here, bunny.”

Keep reading

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Somnophilia with The Grabber

The Grabber x fem!reader // some hdcs 

a/n: why is he so hot gn i haven’t even seen the movie yet and i’m still thirsting over him and upset at his lack of content. also probs not my best work simply because i do not know his character very well yet tysn 

Warnings: The Grabber himself is a warning, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, unprotected sex, fingering (f.recieving), dry humping, probably a mistake or two. This is dark content, mdni. 

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3

You’d been so teasing earlier that day; sucking the egg crumbs off his thumb that he had swiped across your bottom lip, crawling on your hands and knees when he called you to him — watching him expectantly with those big doe eyes of yours.

God, you drive him crazy — whether you mean to or not.

When the thought crossed his mind; you sprawled out beneath him, body limp from the drug, eyes closed with soft moans leaving your mouth, he knew he had to try it. 

It was fairly simple. He had already made some rohypnol infused chocolates to use on boys for kidnapping, so all he needed to do was get you to eat one or two pieces — likely two, seeing as you, a grown woman, are much bigger than the previous boys he’s taken.

“Open up, doll.” The Grabber demands, voice as sweet as honey, gently placing the two chocolate tabs on your tongue. “Good girl, now swallow.” His thumb is still resting on your tongue when you close your mouth, lips wrapping softly around it as you begin to suck, allowing the chocolate square to melt and glide down your throat. Grabber releases a throaty growl, pushing his thumb the rest of the way, other hand gripping your chin – forcing you to look up at him.  “Playing a dangerous game here, bunny.”

Keep reading

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Y/N getting railed by Grabber and calling him Daddy for the first time? >w>

(I'm not really a fan of the term "Daddy" 😅 BUT I do love the term "Papi" 🥴)

So.... In that the case...

You are being railed by The Grabber, on your hands and knees while he's mounting you from behind, and if you accidentally let out a whimper of that word you best believe that you will have unlocked a whole new slew of kinks in that man.

He would flip you over onto your back, anchoring one large hand around your throat, and turn his once brutal rhythm into a slow dirty grind where he doesn't even leave your pussy. His eyes would pierce your very soul from above his devilishly grinning half-mask as you whimper beneath him.

"Again...say it again," the Grabber would growl, his low gutteral voice sounding demonic through the material of his mask, and you can't help but to wail the word again.

He makes you repeat it over and over while never changing the pace of his thrusts. Even after he pulls two or three orgasms from you, he still won't stop the steady deep rolls of his hips, and he stares you down the entire time while growling at you to keep talking.

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Your Turn

The Grabber (Albert Shaw) x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: i do NOT condone his actions at all in the movies obvi this is fiction and should be treated as such, the reader has some form of stockholm syndrome for sure, the reader is naked but there’s no sexual acts but there’s kind of an undertone, talks about suicide (as an option but not as a serious consideration), kidnapping, uh..al

Author’s Note: *slowly walks into the room* hey…. He is currently everything to me im sorry if you just followed me after stranger things season 4. This is unfortunately. The norm. (ethan hawke as a MURDERERRRR. Why must I write my best and favorite works for murderers. Why can’t I be normal)

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by the grabber but you were not in his demographic and you have been there for two weeks which for him…is a very long time 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

The air was stale. It had been stale for what felt like forever. Sometimes, when the door in front of you opened, you would get a rush of cool air. It would circulate. He always left the door open while he was standing there, talking to you. You imagined it was because he needed an out in case you started to get testy. 

You never did. 

He was getting frustrated. 

You began to look forward to the circulation of air. The movement through the room, the breathing in of the cool outside air. You could tell what the day was going to look like through the window but you could never taste the rain or feel the sun.

You were sitting below the phone. The chord had been ripped off. You thought maybe, someone before you had tried to hang themselves with it. It’s what you might’ve thought about, had you been desperate. But for some reason, you weren't desperate yet. 

You hadn’t expected to be a victim of the grabber. He had only been picking up teen boys. You, a young adult girl, never thought you would’ve been next. But here you were, sitting on the dirty mattress, staring at the door, willing it to move. 

Rush. 

Like he had heard you thinking, the door clicked. You perked up, putting your palms flat underneath you. You were hungry and you were tired. He walked inside, unfortunately empty handed. He was wearing a mask that covered his mouth today but not his eyes. That was different. 

“Good morning,” you whispered. Your throat was dry so your voice cracked. He seemed sympathetic to that, head tilting a bit, eyes softening. 

“Did you just wake up?” he questioned quietly, slightly disappointed. He would hate to have missed your sleep. You looked so peaceful when you were dozing, lips slightly parted and face serene. Like nothing wrong could ever happen to you. 

Nevertheless, you shook your head. 

“I thought it was morning by the light,” you said. You moved your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. You tried to make yourself small so he really had to stare at you to grasp any kind of reaction you had. 

“It isn’t.”

“Must be an odd weather day then,” you said, shrugging. 

You had been here for two weeks yesterday. The longest he had ever kept any single person in the basement alive. He wasn’t sure why he had kept you. You had surely never come up to visit him when he left the door open and he usually got frustrated when it took too long. The papers had printed your face, your name, your family's worries. But still, you stayed. You made no attempt to leave. 

It wasn't’ because you had no will to live. 

Maybe, some sick twisted part of you just liked it. Liked having someone make decisions for you. Bring you food, watch over you while you slept. You felt disgusted every time you thought about it but you were delirious from the lack of light and the shock had worn off a week ago. 

You were here now. 

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, observing each other. You cleared your throat, rubbing your nose with your sleeve. 

“Are you here to kill me?”

“No,” he said, voice gravely but certain. The thought truly hadn’t even crossed his mind when he opened the door. He didn’t really have a reason. He walked down the stairs as he would’ve if he was visiting a friend staying in the basement of his house. It was only when the door opened that he realized he had to have a reason. 

You shifted awkwardly. 

“Can I ask you for something?” you questioned. He raised an eyebrow. You hadn’t actually asked him for anything. You hadn’t demanded to be let go or asked for food or water. 

“Yes.” 

“Can I have a change of clothes? Any clothes will do.”

You had started to feel like mold was growing in your sleeves, even though you knew that was unrealistic. The sweat and grime of your capture had worn off on your jeans. You could feel the weight of the entire two weeks by the way your shirt rested on your shoulders. 

While he thought of an answer, you admired his face. You usually only saw the bottom half, if anything. You normally didn’t see his hairline at all. You supposed, in another world, you may have found him attractive. 

You supposed, maybe you did in this world too. 

He walked up to you and you made no move to shrink more. He sat on the side of the bed and thought. 

Max wasn’t home. He had gone ‘bowling’, which Al was almost certain was code for buying more drugs. When he went off he usually left for an hour or two. Regardless, he was very loud when he came home. The dog barked, the door slammed shut, Max called into the house about some absurd story he had been making up the entire way home. 

The Grabber wasn’t sure if it was curiosity of you or of his limits but he made his decision then. 

“Follow me.” 

He stood up again and you were almost certain you had just screwed yourself. Any kind of relationship you felt you had with this man would end in your untimely death. 

Warily, you stood. Your feet felt wobbly as you followed him to the door. He didn’t pause when he walked through it but you did. You looked to him for guidance, for reassurance. He turned back once he had walked a few steps up. 

He nodded, gesturing for you to follow. 

“I promise nothing bad will happen to you.” 

Your feet creaked on the steps. You looked around the house. Your mind told you to find things to attack him maybe, to call someone for help, to signal for attention. But you followed him without acting on any of those impulses. You thought of those scary movies where the person always messed it up for themselves. 

What if they just did what they were told?

He led you through a hallway and to a bathroom. There were no windows. It was small, the toilet cramped between the shower and the sink. It was, however, homely. It was something you would find at a friend's house. Foregin but not unwelcome. 

“You can’t bathe alone,” he said, the threat back in his voice. Your breath hitched a bit as he put his hand on your back. “Surely you know that.” 

“Of course.”

You weren’t sure what that included but you didn’t argue. He started the water and you realized you weren’t showering at all, like you had dumbly figured. You were taking a bath. 

You watched his movements. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt today. You could scratch him, people would notice. He knew this. You knew this. 

Testing the waters of trust. 

You moved slowly as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, placing your hand under the water. He put his hand underneath yours and your remnants of the running stream trickled onto his. It was an oddly intimate moment where you both just sat there, feeling at the water got warmer and then stopping when it was perfect. 

He stood up and you cleared your throat, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, as he moved to the door. 

“Getting you clothes silly.” 

He left the room, leaving the door wide open. You looked back to the water and stuck your hand in it, relishing in the feeling of it under your fingers. You could already feel the crust leaving your skin. 

Al stood beside the door for a moment, watching in the mirror to see what you would do. You didn’t even stare at the door for a second longer than you should’ve. You just looked back to the bath. 

You trusted him, if not somewhat. He wasn’t sure what that made him feel but he grabbed you clothes regardless. He placed some on the counter. The water was rising slowly. 

“Do you have a name I can call you?” you asked, looking up at him.

“It’s not important.”

“But I’ve just been calling you Grabber in my mind. It doesn’t seem like a very realistic name,” you admitted. Extending an olive branch. “You know my name. I told you when you asked.”

You had. You hadn’t lied to him at all in fact, from what he could tell. 

“Let’s play a game,” he said. “While we wait.”

“Sure.”

“I ask you a question and you have to answer truthfully. You can ask me a question and I’ll answer truthfully,” he suggested. There were some things about you he was dying to know. A promise of a transaction just might get it out of you. 

“How will you know if I’m lying?”

“I’ll know.” The tone of his voice reminded you once again that this man had kidnapped you. 

“Alright. You start then.”

He sat across from you, resting on the covered toilet seat. You were close, knees almost touching in the cramped space. 

“What is your mothers name?” 

“Y/M/N,” you said, easily. “That’s a silly question.” 

“Say I’m testing the waters.” He knew the answer. It was in the papers. 

“My turn.” You breathed deeply. “What’s your name?” He knew that was going to be it yet he hadn’t prepared for it. He could lie but he had promised honesty. You were giving him honesty after all. 

“Al.” 

“Al,” you said, testing the name on your lips. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You paused, pursing your lips. You trusted him not to leave you there to die. You trusted that he would be back. You trusted that he would bring you food before you starved. 

“I think in some way, yes, yes I do Al.” You pointed slowly at the mask over his mouth. “Why do you wear that?”

“I like it,” he said. “Are you going to get undressed for me?”

Your lips parted and you cleared your throat, looking down at the water. It was almost full already. It seemed to be going so slow a moment ago. 

“Yes,” you said. “I did…ask for this after all,” you said, allowed to try and convince yourself. He turned off the water and you took a deep breath. You had a mixture of emotions as you started to discard your shirt. Embarrassment but also relief. You desperately wanted it off you. You cleared your throat with insecurity and put it gently on the counter. He was watching you. He made no attempt to hide it. 

You shimmied off your pants and then were left in your undergarments. You watched him as he gazed at you. You suddenly felt a warmth in your stomach, a familiar pleasant feeling at the behest of his stare. You had his full attention. 

You took off the last pieces of your clothes and without hesitation stepped into the bath. You sunk into it and let out an involuntary breath of relief. The warm water felt amazing on your aching bones. You almost forgot he was there. 

He shifted and you looked back up at him. Previously you were at eye level with him while sitting but you were now far below him. 

“Thank you,” you said and you meant it. He knew you meant it. 

He nodded, adjusting his pants and feeling his mask particularly constricting. You started to get your hair wet but he grabbed your wrist. 

You watched him as he started to gently get your hair wet, pouring water over your head. He was careful not to get it in your beautiful eyes.

“It’s my turn,” you said. “Why me?”

That had been the question he was asking himself as well. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He put some shampoo in his hands and gently put it in your hair. 

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. 

You suddenly became overwhelmed with the feeling to discard his mask and kiss him. Feeling immediately ashamed you looked back down at the water. 

“Why haven’t you left?” he asked. The feeling of his fingers running through your scalp was distracting. They were thick and strong. He must work some sort of construction job maybe? Or moving boxes at least. 

“I think…I think I like you,” you said honestly. “Are you a construction worker?” He scoffed at the quick change in momentum. 

“No.” In fact, he was lightly laughing at it. The sound of his surprise made you laugh a bit too. 

“Your fingers are strong is all,” you explained. 

He nodded and started to rinse your hair out. 

“Finish up and get dressed,” he said, desperately needing a moment to himself. Unless you clawed out the damn wall, you would be okay locked in there while he stood outside the room. You nodded at him and watched him leave. You sat there, practically drowning yourself in the warm water until it got cold. Then you took the towel and washed yourself off, putting on the clothes laid out for you. 

Cardigan and slacks. Comfortable. 

You knocked on the door. He opened it slowly and gestured for you to follow him. You ddi as you were told, walking back down the dreaded basement stairs. The door reopened and you were back. You walked past him onto your mattress. 

“Thank you,” you said again because you didn’t think he really heard you the first time. Overwhelmed with unfamiliar feelings, he nodded. He turned to leave but stopped, turning around. 

“What did you mean by like?”

“I meant like Al,” you said honestly. You snatched up your turn after his question. 

“Will you…will you stay a bit? You don’t have to sit with me but just…sit.” He looked at you. Helpless, at his mercy. Listening to his orders and not kicking up a fuss. 

After a moment he didn’t nod or shake his head, he just shut the door with the both of you inside. You had moved through a lot of trust in a short amount of time. He started to walk to sit against the wall and then detoured. He sat at the foot of the mattress while you sat against the wall. He turned to face you. 

You lightly smiled. 

“It’s your turn Al.”

“Alright honey. Lemme think of a question.”

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Hey 💞 Could you write something with the grabber being extremely jealous about someone (maybe max) and punishing reader because of it? If that's not too much lmao

Yeesss but turned out nsfw whoops

Content/Warnings: Full on Nswf & Spanking, F!Reader because of the skirt and the pet name but otherwise GN, Definitely dub-con, Light Sadism and Objectification I guess?

The Grabber Imagine: Getting jealous and punishing you

You were different than the others he took before you, not only because you were the first adult but because despite your fear you behaved. You were good for him, because you knew very well that there would be consequences if you recklessly tried to escape. It wasn’t like you weren’t thinking, perhaps planning even- he saw it in your eyes. But you didn’t defy him, not yet at least. You were smarter than that.

That was why sometimes he would give you tasks upstairs, he liked having you around to observe. He liked the way you would blush sometimes when you caught his eyes on you before quickly looking away. But you didn't let much more than that on, it almost frustrated him. He was pleased by your well behaved character while it also frustrated him that you didn't give him a reason to punish you.

Cause he wanted to see that pretty face in agonizing fear, seeing your sweet eyes widen at him as you were completely at his mercy.

It was only when you interacted with his brother who thought you to be a visitor that he felt dissatisfaction boil up. First he thought it was because you could possibly say something to expose the actual, malicious reason why you were here. But you wouldn't say anything about it, so eventually he faced the realization that.. it wasn't because of what you might say but more the fact that you talked with Max.

Another man.

Today his brother even voiced some things that sounded like he was flirting with you- and it boiled up within him until eventually he became angry, really angry at you and this whole fucking thing.

"Come here Doll." He ordered with one of his pet names, yet the usual mischievous tone that he had to his voice around you was gone. You hurried to come into the kitchen to find him there, sitting at the center of the room in his chair.

He was wearing that devilish mask, holding his unbuckled belt in one hand while the other one rested on his thigh. Your gaze roamed him in fear, your breath quickened up. His bare chest was rising as he took a deep breath, he had unbuttoned his shirt.

Your breath quickened, you froze at the door unable to come any closer at the thread he posed right now. The promise of punishment lying in the air.

"I said, come here. Now." He growled, his darkened eyes fixating you beneath the mask. You took a cautious step towards him and then slowly did as you were told, holding your hands to your chest.

"Tell me why you have been talking to Max." He demanded lowly, and you were quick to answer, "I-I didn't tell him anything I swear. We just talked about other things.."

If it wasn't for the mask you would have seen him sneer at that.

"I am aware of that. Have you been flirting with him hmm? Do you think you can go if you get together with my brother?"

You blinked, surprised, and slowly shook your head. "No.. No I-"

He had enough, he had fucking enough. Did you wanna tell him now that you actually liked his brother?! He didn't even wanna know how you would talk your way out of this.

He grabbed you by the waist and roughly pushed you on his lap so you were sprawled out on top- you fell with a squeal and felt his legs pushing against your stomach. Your feet dangled in the air trying to look for a hold- S M A C K

The leather belt came crashing down on your behind, making you audibly gasp in pain. Finally, you were reacting to him. Now you wouldn't have any other choice but to show him the range of what was behind this calm face.

Another smack, and another, you clung onto his pants and quivered under the impact. "Stop! Please!" You begged, and he inhaled in pure bliss of your pleading. His large hand grabbed the hem of your skirt and put it up so your already reddening cheeks were exposed to him.

"I was the one who took you, who claimed to judge over your existence. Remember that."

He spanked you again, this time your gasp almost sounded like what he'd describe as a moan. He wasn't sure wether that was just how you sounded or if this was actually doing something to you-

so he reached down to press his large fingers against your panties, indeed finding them to be wet. And a surprised smirk played around his lips when he realized. He tilted his head to take a look at your face and saw that beautiful blush blooming all over now along with a few tears in your eyes- that sight did it for him.

"You belong to me, all of you." His fingers started moving up and down your clothed heat, making you cling to his pants. Huffs of moans escaped you now, and he spanked you again, this time with his bare hand.

"Don't forget this is punishment Doll." He said lowly, now taking turns spanking and rubbing you. The pain mixed with the pleasure that you could not deny feeling.

Eventually he harshly grabbed your panties as well and yanked them down to your knees, exposing your bare heat for him. You gasped and struggled against him to stand up, but he used your attempt to stand up to get off the chair himself and to harshly press you against the table against, face down.

"You are mine alone, and I'll make use of my belongings how I please."

You could hear the metal zipper from behind, a hand came up to grab you by the hip as you felt his hot length slightly tease your entrance. A surprised moan left your lips, your breath quickened and your behind wriggled a bit in a last attempt to do something against him, but he just pressed you further against the table.

He slowly pushed in, starting to fill you out, to fully claim your inside as well to be his.

Your eyes shut by themselves, your voice quivered in protest before he started moving. You were perfectly wet for him so he had no problems sliding in and out of you, pushing into you at a steady pace with a groan.

"That's it darling" he moaned darkly, "Perfectly tight for my cock, like you were meant to be filled out by me like this."

It felt so terribly good, and you found yourself arching your back to meet his thrusts more. He put his other hand on your hip as well and pushed you back into him further, pounding into you increasingly faster.

It was driving him crazy, hearing your moans and cries and to see the blissful blush on your face as he finally took you. And to ravage you like this, to break through the quiet composure.

He could start feeling how you tightened around him, your orgasm approaching as he fucked you senseless on the creaking kitchen table. Then, suddenly your released washed over you with the sweetest sounds coming from your lips. You tightened so wonderful around him that he felt himself coming close as well as he kept on thrusting into you harshly, basically using you to get off now.

When he came as well he pressed his hips against your backside tightly, practically lifting your hips so your feet weren't on the ground anymore. God, you were so perfect for him.

He stayed inside of you when he leaned over to whisper to you, running his hands over your back, your sides.

"You won't be talking to Max anymore, understood?"

You nodded, turning your head to the side to look at him. "Y-Yes!"

***

Thank you so much for the love on my first pic for him!! Please keep them going and tell me what you think of this one

[who-me-a-simp-never]

Just a little Ed thot I had 🤭

Smut below!

Imagine sitting on Ed’s lap while his back Is against the couch, and you’re watching a movie. It’s late, and both of you are just enjoying the warmth of your bodies so close together.

You start to squirm when a more sexual scene appears on TV, making Edward chuckle. “Honey calm down, just stay still.” The remark makes you slow your movements and you try your hardest to still.

Your squirming must have been a bit too much, as a stiff warmth makes itself at home on your ass. You turn your head, making a sarcastic look of surprise, and he gives you a playful swat. “Hun, you know it’s your fault with all that damn squirming. I could feel you fucking clenching around nothing all over my lap baby.” His crude, bold remark makes your brain go feral.

His hand creeps down your flimsy sleep-shorts, dragging them to the side. “Oh honey, such a damn mess already. Just from sitting on my lap?”

His fingers slide under the band of your panties, making way to your pulsating warmth. Two of his large, calloused fingers enter you as your head leans back onto his shoulder.

He keeps a steady slow pace, fingers penetrating you so deeply, it feels as though you could cry. Your whimpers and moans are music to his ears, as he hums lowly, his lips tracing your neck with sloppy open-mouth kisses.

You feel so close, your hips bucking forward while Edward holds you down. “Finish for me baby, come on. You’re doing so well, so good for me my love.” Praise spills out of his mouth sending you over the edge.

With your mouth agape, a choked cry emits as warmth surrounds your body. Edwards finger slow, and his hands surround your body.

“Shh, it’s okay. You did so well honey, so well.” Your chests heaving slows, as you lay yourself on his warm chest, letting him lull you to sleep.

Requests are open <3 ty for reading!

[who-me-a-simp-never]

idk about you but I'm thinking I want to be railed inside the grabbers van 🥵

Great minds think alike 😩👌

Honestly I am obsessed with that idea 🥵

Al not being able to wait to be inside you, dragging you to the back by a hand fisted in your hair while fumbling with his belt before ripping at your pants, and then next thing you know you are being pressed face first into the van floor as he fucks himself deep inside you.

He's snarling and growling possessively with his hands bruising against your hips, before his voice suddenly turns into hight pitched whines the longer he fucks you and the more wet you get, and you can't help but drool and moan at the sharp pleasure coiling painfully tight in your pelvis with every brutal snap of his hips. He comes deep inside you with an almost pained sound and you nearly sob at the feeling of heat spilling down your thighs from your overstuffed pussy. But then his long thick fingers are on your clit and you can't remember much after that.

By the time you can focus again and your ears have stopped ringing, Al is still half hard and buried inside you while rolling his hips against you in gentle circles while cooing in your ear, and you are still smushed against the floor of the van. His heavy weight pressed into your back as he continued to lazily rut into you like an animal and you have no choice but to lay there as he happily licked and nibbled over the nape of your neck and your shoulders.

[who-me-a-simp-never]

The Grabber fanfic !!

Warnings: sex, Stockholm syndrome, a little bit soft, a little bit rough, slightly sad

Word count: 764

Also, consider supporting my ao3 account, where this is also posted, if you like this! It’s cryptic_hypocrite

-

You woke up yet again in this cold, concrete room. Misery grew in the darkness of it and golden hope shone through the single window. Despite your situation, the only thing that still made you feel human is the interactions you had with The Grabber. The gentle and caring, yet fear-inducing way he spoke to you was enough to fill your guts with that familiar fluttering sensation. When you really thought about the fact that you rely on your kidnapper for anything that resembles happiness, you felt such great shame and embarrassment. Well, that was until he reminded you exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

The door unlocked with the sound of clanging metal and a nervous excitement washed over you. His figure — being so much taller than yours while you sat on your mattress — was so deliciously intimidating.

“Good morning, my precious. Did you sleep well?” He purred lightly, holding a tray of a soda bottle and eggs. His voice to you was like water to a dehydrated tongue. You needed him so badly, and at last he’s back again to soothe you.

“Better, yeah,” you said raspily. He crouched down for you to accept the tray. You looked into his piercingly sweet blue eyes hidden behind his mask with gratitude and a hint of longing. You always missed him. Even when he was right in front of you. You’d take looking at those mask-veiled eyes, and exposed lips and jaw (which is apparently what he was willing to reveal at that moment) over the bland, gray walls any day.

He caressed your cheek and slid his index finger and thumb around your chin and grazed your bottom lip with a sense of hunger — almost as if in response to the look in your eyes. The feeling that he’s breaking you slowly was becoming too apparent to ignore.

You couldn’t resist the urge to wrap your arms around his neck and face, and kiss him passionately. Releasing a subtle chuckle, he kissed you back sloppier with even more fervor.

At this point, you couldn’t think straight, and all you could tell was that the pulse between your thighs was getting stronger and stronger. You found yourself starting to grind yourself against his thigh and feeling up his chest. He then began to tilt you more onto your back and lift your shirt off of you, placing your legs across his lap. He analyzed every goosebump sprinkled over your chest and around your nipples. Softly, teasingly, he brushed his thumb against your nipples. With this alone, he drew a low moan out of you. Then, like a paintbrush on a canvas, his tongue worked gently around your collarbone and then down to your nipples. You slurred curses under your panting breath.

“You’re so special, my dear,” he exhaled. Through the blur of your vision you spotted his growing erection, and you wanted badly to pleasure him, too. You reached out to palm at his crotch. He groaned and lifted his head from your chest. The feeling of neediness was becoming overwhelming. With a little adjusting, you undid his belt and pulled down his pants with desperation, guiding his hard cock into you.

“God, fuck, you feel so good,” The Grabber moaned. The grip of one hand lowers onto your waist and tightens. His fingers digging into you made you need him even more. His other hand starts to travel downwards to soothe your aching pulse. You follow his thrusts hungrily.

“Fuck, pl-please,” you begged, unsure exactly, however, of what it was you were begging for. Your hands trailed all around his chest and back. Everything about the older man’s body turned you on. Your eyes moved to his wavy, golden brown hair. Strings and strands swinging back and forth with his movements. Even in the most intimate act there is, you wish you could just absorb him. Down your throat, in your lungs, through your pores, you want him.

With a few more animalistic thrusts and touches of his fingers, you both break into messy, intense orgasms. Clawing into his back faded into putting your head on his shoulder delicately. He kissed the back of your head and lovingly stroked your neck. You both reposition yourselves so you’re lying cuddled together. You didn’t realize your eyes had lost the energy to stay open. While holding onto his arm that wraps around your ribs, you drifted off.

By the time you woke up, your kidnapper’s presence, the tiny bit of sanity he provided you, and the warmth he radiated had vanished.

[who-me-a-simp-never]

The Grabber fanfic !!

Warnings: sex, Stockholm syndrome, a little bit soft, a little bit rough, slightly sad

Word count: 764

Also, consider supporting my ao3 account, where this is also posted, if you like this! It’s cryptic_hypocrite

-

You woke up yet again in this cold, concrete room. Misery grew in the darkness of it and golden hope shone through the single window. Despite your situation, the only thing that still made you feel human is the interactions you had with The Grabber. The gentle and caring, yet fear-inducing way he spoke to you was enough to fill your guts with that familiar fluttering sensation. When you really thought about the fact that you rely on your kidnapper for anything that resembles happiness, you felt such great shame and embarrassment. Well, that was until he reminded you exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

The door unlocked with the sound of clanging metal and a nervous excitement washed over you. His figure — being so much taller than yours while you sat on your mattress — was so deliciously intimidating.

“Good morning, my precious. Did you sleep well?” He purred lightly, holding a tray of a soda bottle and eggs. His voice to you was like water to a dehydrated tongue. You needed him so badly, and at last he’s back again to soothe you.

“Better, yeah,” you said raspily. He crouched down for you to accept the tray. You looked into his piercingly sweet blue eyes hidden behind his mask with gratitude and a hint of longing. You always missed him. Even when he was right in front of you. You’d take looking at those mask-veiled eyes, and exposed lips and jaw (which is apparently what he was willing to reveal at that moment) over the bland, gray walls any day.

He caressed your cheek and slid his index finger and thumb around your chin and grazed your bottom lip with a sense of hunger — almost as if in response to the look in your eyes. The feeling that he’s breaking you slowly was becoming too apparent to ignore.

You couldn’t resist the urge to wrap your arms around his neck and face, and kiss him passionately. Releasing a subtle chuckle, he kissed you back sloppier with even more fervor.

At this point, you couldn’t think straight, and all you could tell was that the pulse between your thighs was getting stronger and stronger. You found yourself starting to grind yourself against his thigh and feeling up his chest. He then began to tilt you more onto your back and lift your shirt off of you, placing your legs across his lap. He analyzed every goosebump sprinkled over your chest and around your nipples. Softly, teasingly, he brushed his thumb against your nipples. With this alone, he drew a low moan out of you. Then, like a paintbrush on a canvas, his tongue worked gently around your collarbone and then down to your nipples. You slurred curses under your panting breath.

“You’re so special, my dear,” he exhaled. Through the blur of your vision you spotted his growing erection, and you wanted badly to pleasure him, too. You reached out to palm at his crotch. He groaned and lifted his head from your chest. The feeling of neediness was becoming overwhelming. With a little adjusting, you undid his belt and pulled down his pants with desperation, guiding his hard cock into you.

“God, fuck, you feel so good,” The Grabber moaned. The grip of one hand lowers onto your waist and tightens. His fingers digging into you made you need him even more. His other hand starts to travel downwards to soothe your aching pulse. You follow his thrusts hungrily.

“Fuck, pl-please,” you begged, unsure exactly, however, of what it was you were begging for. Your hands trailed all around his chest and back. Everything about the older man’s body turned you on. Your eyes moved to his wavy, golden brown hair. Strings and strands swinging back and forth with his movements. Even in the most intimate act there is, you wish you could just absorb him. Down your throat, in your lungs, through your pores, you want him.

With a few more animalistic thrusts and touches of his fingers, you both break into messy, intense orgasms. Clawing into his back faded into putting your head on his shoulder delicately. He kissed the back of your head and lovingly stroked your neck. You both reposition yourselves so you’re lying cuddled together. You didn’t realize your eyes had lost the energy to stay open. While holding onto his arm that wraps around your ribs, you drifted off.

By the time you woke up, your kidnapper’s presence, the tiny bit of sanity he provided you, and the warmth he radiated had vanished.