isana ˚ ༘⋆♱｡˚

how did it get to this point? who knew. it was a sight for sore eyes, the way sanji ate up your pussy like it was a meal he perfectly curated. not to mention the way his spine curved to line up with zoros face. you knew how prideful zoro got when he could reduce sanji to a pathetic, humiliated mess. he would never pass up such an opportunity.

sanji couldn’t help but huff mindless french curses in between your legs. just as you felt the heat pool to your core, his eyes rolled back and his ministrations on your clit paused. he apologized profusely as dug crescent-shaped dents into your thighs. “i-im.. so sorry, mon amour.” he pathetically tried to catch his breath, zoro spared him no mercy.

oh wow you thought as you heard the poor boy moaning like a bitch. his legs were shaking violently, his back practically at a 90° angle as he moved with zoros tongue . you could hear his prideful chuckles and lighthearted degradations, but what really got you was the way sanji would whimper at the slightest revocation of stimulation.

you petted sanjis hair, a silent declaration of your forgiveness. the sight before you made your pussy throb like never before, it was enough to get you off in full honesty. you knew the alcohol was only making it more pleasurable. you couldn’t help but pity the poor thing as he mumbled incoherent pleads into your thigh.

zoro was an eater, you knew that firsthand. you could only imagine the way his tongue felt as it abused the spots that made sanji squirm. he was an amateur, afterall. it was the first time he ever felt the pleasure of his ass being ate; he only did it cause you asked him too. “nng.. n-no more, zoro” he pleaded. his poor cock was leaking like a faucet onto the sheets. he looking for something— anything, to give him that last push into ecstasy. but, zoro was much stronger. his were arms successfully caging him in place, forcing him to take whatever he was giving.

“help the poor boy out.” you instructed, looking into zoros eyes. even though he pretended not to be, he was just as pathetic as sanji was. zoro got the memo and wrapped his rough hands around sanjis cock, reluctantly pumping it as he continued eating. sanji looked up at you, like you betrayed him. he couldn’t help but whine like a pornstar, tears streaming down his pretty face. you continued threading your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings of praise.

a puddle of drool was collecting, dripping down onto your pussy. sanji was all blissed out, the overstimulation getting to him. bad. “no, no, no” he whined desperately, “i— i wanna.. im- gonna cum” he cried out, burying into you as he finally got that sweet release.

god, he was trembling. blissed out beyond comprehension. you couldn’t fathom what he was mumbling, practically a mindless doll at this point. zoro was already accumulating his insults at this point, but he was still hard & you were still on edge. guess a round 2 wouldnt hurt.

the x reader "consumers" on tumblr lowk are so entitled, i said consumer bcs these people do nothing to support the writers but complain about FREE fanfics that other people write for FUN and for the LOVE of the game. THEY DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING.

i'm so tired of you people who can only pressure these writers, make memes, and ridicule them for writing something that was not fit to your standards or liking.

you don't even write or contribute anything to the community, don't even support or atleast reblogs to the writers you actually like.

coworker!simon riley who barely speaks to anyone but always seems to notice you. he leaves a black coffee on your desk every morning with no note, no eye contact, just a low grunt when you thank him. everyone thinks he’s cold. you’re starting to think he’s watching you more than he should.

coworker!simon riley who fixes your computer when it crashes during a deadline, sleeves rolled up, veins in his forearms flexing while he types. he’s so close you can smell his cologne mixed with gun oil. when you try to make small talk he just mutters “you’re not as useless as the rest of them.”

fwb!simon riley who corners you in the supply closet the second the floor clears for lunch. he yanks your skirt up, drops to his knees and eats you out like he’s starving — thick fingers curling deep while his tongue works your clit until your legs shake. then he spins you around, pulls his mask down just enough and fucks you hard against the shelves, one hand over your mouth so no one hears you moan.

coworker!simon riley who glares at the flirty account manager when he lingers too long at your desk. says nothing, but his jaw ticks under the mask. later that same day he texts you one word: “office?” and you already know what’s coming.

fwb!simon riley who fucks you bent over your own desk after everyone’s gone home. papers scattered everywhere, your computer still on, his thick cock stretching you open while he growls low in your ear, “been thinking about this tight cunt all fucking day, sweetheart.” he keeps one gloved hand over your mouth the whole time so the security cameras don’t catch your sounds.

coworker!simon riley who walks you to your car in the parking garage every night “because it’s on his way.” his hand brushes the small of your back when no one’s looking. you both pretend it means nothing.

fwb!simon riley who has you riding him in the driver’s seat of his truck in the underground garage, windows completely fogged up. he grips your hips hard enough to bruise, guiding you up and down his cock while whispering filthy praise in that rough manchester accent, “that’s it… bounce on it just like that, filthy girl. take every inch.”

coworker!simon riley who still acts completely normal around the rest of the team — silent, brooding, professional. but the second the last person leaves, his eyes go dark and he’s already looking for the nearest locked door.

fwb!simon riley who fucks you slow and deep on the break room couch at 2am during a storm. emergency lights only. he’s got your legs over his shoulders, mask pulled down so you can see the scars and stubble while he stares straight into your eyes the entire time. he doesn’t pull out when he finishes — just stays buried inside you, breathing heavy against your neck like he never wants to leave.

coworker!simon riley who leaves hickeys on your inner thighs that you have to hide under your work pants the next morning. he catches you adjusting your clothes and the corner of his mouth twitches under the mask like he knows exactly what he did.