⋅°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

My name is Olivia, I love reading, art, and writing. I love sharing my art and talking about books and music. I love when people talk to me. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, vent, or just to say hi ⋅°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Fandoms I write for ᨳଓ .

Attack on titan

Jujutsu Kaisen

Call of duty modern warfare

The Pitt

Feel free talk, I LOVE INTERACTION!!! My inbox is always open! (My inbox doesn’t work so a link to a goggle form is here)

🪽Let’s be mutuals 🪽

It all started one night after Simon got home from the bar. The only thing he wanted was to be surrounded by you. So he took u right there on the kitchen counter. And it was particularly rough. back arching, voice high, and nails deep into the soft flesh of his back. The pain of the bright red welts forming in his skin only diving him harder into u. And that night after a long evening in a sweaty dance of love, he look in the mirror to find scratches splayed across his pale back.

After that he was more aware of the pain u inflicted on him. Your playful hits that didn’t hurt, or the random times you’d bite him. And he liked it. Every time he’d feel his cock slightly firm in his pants.

After weeks of denial he finally confessed. It was early in the morning, right after your shower and his run as you both were sipping coffee in the tiny kitchen that he blurted out “I like when you hurt me.”

It took u by surprise, almost choking on your coffee as he said it.

“I like when u run your fingers down my back till I bleed, and I like when you bite me, and when you hit me, in that playful way. It, it just makes me wanna fuck you so hard. Till you’re screaming and I’m bleeding from your nails scraping my back.”

You look up at him with surprise. “You have a pain kink?”

“Yea, yea I think so.”

The soft glow of the street lights bled into the small space of the dark apartment. The soft humming of the radiator filling the comfortable space, of his apartment. It smelt of coffee and his cologne. The only thing missing was him.

It was early in the morning, the sun just started to peak over the dusty horizon. The soft click of the sliding door connecting to the small balcony was the only noise that filled the quiet space, as You stepped onto the balcony in one of his oversized shirts and panties watching the sun rise over the city of Pittsburgh.

He was your night owl. Lurking in the shadowy nights of the big city, helping the people, then coming home like he wasn’t a hero. A nightly hero.

As you were lost in thought, the front door opened and Jack walked through. His steps heavy with age, but soft with love. His salt and pepper hair and far skin sparkling in the soft gleam of the apartment.

“Angel, what are you doing up?” He asks, voice softly, as he steps onto the balcony.

You look up, eyes meeting his, as a smile comes across your sleepy face. “Hi.” You whisper.

Jacks hands fall a pond your shoulder, rough with his time in the military and hospital. “Hi, angel.” He responds with an equally as soft smile. He softly runs his hands through your hair. “What are you doing up?”

“Waiting for you. I wanted to see you before work.”

“Aw, sweetie, you don’t need to do that. You need your beauty sleep.” He says as he pats your head. “I need to go shower, I’ll be back.” He says as he turns to leave. But you grab his hand, stopping him.

“Stay. Please. Just for a little.”

- 🐇

Notes: Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, I’ve just been very stressed with some family stuff. My foster mom is in the hospital, and I just have to prepare for school starting again, so that’s the reason for the delay. I also don’t know how to tag this so I was just guess so sorry if I missed anything.

MDNI! Smut (not graphic), toxic relationship, cheating, groping, inappropriate relationship with boss and arguing.

Laying in bed, his scent is still all around you, cologne sticking to the sheets, saying longer than he ever has. You're the other woman. You knew you were going to be. He told he had a wife, and he was only looking for a quick fuck, but he was just so perfect. It was hard not to fall in love. So many things were wrong, and you felt awful. You peel yourself out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to get ready for work. Your white button up that is a little too tight, and your long black pencil skirt. You were tired of this, if him, of being treated like you were nothing. After getting ready you grab your bag and head to work, to face him.

The heavy glass door creaks as you walk inside the office and head to your desk, connected to Nanami’s office. As you set your stuff down you hear a familiar voice.

“Hello darling,” he says as he leans against the doorway of your room. “How are you this morning?”

“Good” you mumbled, keeping it straight forward and simple.

“That good sweetheart. You look good today, in that skirt.” He says as his hands roll down your shoulder, and to your lower back. And as much as you hated him, hated this weird relationship you had with him, you couldn't lie. It felt good. So damn good.You had to lean into him. Nanami was there for you at your hardest. He let you keep your job when you fell into a deep depression and didn’t leave your house for months. He brought you food, cleaned your house, and kept you clean. All while he had a wife at home. Cooking him dinner and keeping his bed warm. After the first time you had sex, you all you thought about was why you? What was it about you that made him forget about his wife at home? You knew it wasn’t your beauty because you’ve seen pictures of his wife. She could be a model. You suspected that it was because you were easy. The smallest hint of affection and you’d fall, hard. So when he took care of you for those long months, you became attached, so attached, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Did you wear this just for me?” He whispers as his hands make his way to your breast, squeezing the soft chubby flesh. A soft gasp escapes you, as pleasure consumes you. Your thighs start to press together as his hands wander more, finding soft tender spots on your body. “My wife I’d going away on a girls trip with her friends so I’m coming over tonight. I want you to wear that matching bra and pantie set. The black one, with the pink lace.” His rough hands slip under your shirt, pointer finger sliding along the lip of your bra cup. “Maybe even make me something good to eat if you're feeling fancy. Like some steak, or maybe even salmon.” Nanami is cut off when his office phone starts to ring, with a sigh he removes his hands from your shirt and walks back into his office talking to whoever.

And you just sit there, on the verge of tears with an aching pain in your chest and an aching pleasure between your legs. This is killing you, he is killing you.

You wish you didn’t listen, you wish you didn’t respond to his text, but now he’s here, at your kitchen table like always, eating the food you made for him. You just watched. You were sick.

“Doll? What is it?” Nanami asks as he takes a sip of his wine. And it broke you.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You whisper, your hands shaking as you look up at him. And he looked at you puzzled, like he was so confused. Confused at why you were saying this.

“What can’t you do anymore sweetheart?”

“This!” You yell, “This! All of this, I just can’t take it! You treating me like, like…”

“Like what?” Nanami asks bored, “like your special? Like your my girlfriend or wife? Like I like you? What? Because no matter what I say I know you will come back.” He says as he puts down his glass and pushes his chair away from the table and he stands up. “You will come crawling.” His hands find your chin and he tilts your head up to look at him. Tears roll down your face as beg looks at you. “Don’t cry sweetie, I’m just being honest.” He whispers as his thumb whips your fallen tears.

You wish he was wrong, you wish you could stay away, but you couldn’t, he was addicting. You needed him. Your clothes on the floor of your kitchen, making their way back to your bedroom, back to where you started. Naked in bed, watching him get dressed. No thank you, or you did good. Just back to putting on his clothes. His pants are first, the flies zip fills the quiet room as you lay there, disgusted, with your thoughts. “Do you love your wife?” You mutter, almost so quietly that he couldn’t hear.

He was putting on his belt when he replied, “Of course I do, she's the love of my life.”

“They why do you fuck me? Why am I here?”

Gojo has never been insecure, he’s always been the most attractive, the funniest, the strongest, every one loved him. So when Gojo's beloved girlfriend told him that she's just not “feeling it” he was confused.

“What do you mean baby?” He whines needy between your legs, with his hands up your hoodie. You’ve been feeling off recently. You don’t know if it’s stress, or some depression coming back, or maybe the way your clothes have been weird recently. They’ve all been growing tighter and it’s been making you feel fat. Insecure.

“It’s nothing,” you groan as you push Gojo off, rolling onto your stomach and pushing the blankets up to cover your face. “I just don’t want to have sex, I just don’t feel up to it.”

Gojo lies beside you confused. He pulls down the blanket trying to get a glimpse of your face. “Baby? Come on, don’t play tough, you were all needy last night.” Say as his hands rub your body through the blanket, but when he hears a sniffle he stops. “Baby? What’s wrong sweetcakes?”

“Nothing Satoru, just… I need some space.” Space? Space wasn’t in Satoru’s vocabulary, there was never space between you guys, and it worried him.

Gojo kisses your cheek “Talk to me sweetheart. What’s wrong? You have nothing to be afraid of.”

With a sigh you turn to face him. “Satoru, I… I’m just feeling really ugly right now, and I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“But your beautiful baby, just jaw dropping.” He argues.

“No, I’m overweight, and my clothes aren’t fitting like they used to.”

“I know but you still look gorgeous.”

“But I don’t feel gorgeous! I know you love me and find me attractive but I don’t feel it!”

And Gojo just looks at you puzzled. Like he doesn’t understand what you mean. And that’s when it hit you, he’s never felt like this. Insacure. He’s always and always has been perfect. He’s never had a bad hair day or ever been bloated, he always looks perfect. So you’d have to spell it out for him.

“I’m feeling insecure.” You whisper as you look down at the bed.