Latest Posts by allpurposeramen - Page 6

THE DATE!! ITS HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM ‼️‼️‼️

Thinking about being a little too good at getting Johnny off. The way he grits his teeth as he thrusts into your fist, whining and begging: “Not yet—fuck—please not yet.” Brain begging for one thing, body begging for another. Hmmm

so I’m a little freak that gets a raging boner when stupid doofus characters realize how much they messed up and hurt someone

would cum in my pants a little if you made college Johnny from the promethean series suffer I’ll be real

I’d like to think Simon actually manages to coax shy!reader out of their shell and make some cute noises for him during sex :(( and Johnny has to hear just how sweet they sound when someone fucks them right

need that dog to come begging for scraps (please)

This also gives me a boner

Promethean: Coming home to roost

Why is he doing this? Why is he doing this?

He’d come to Simon’s room to talk about his their the bird. The logic just didn’t click in his brain in time. Obviously if his door was closed, it meant she was inside with him, didn’t it? That he was inside of her—

Soap was about to knock when he heard it. Angelic. That was the word for it, really. He prided himself on his skills, but he didn’t know women could sound like that. That you could sound like that.

Johnny had made you cum. Every time he was with you— at least once, usually more. But your sounds were so hushed. You bit your lip and whined. It was cute, and he wasn’t so invested in your pleasure that he needed you to scream for him or anything. He knew you were having a good time, that was enough. Right?

But the moans he heard through that door. He could picture you, mouth wide and back arching while Simon held his calloused fingers at your clit, his strokes careful and deliberate. Soap felt himself rooted at the door. He shouldn’t be listening. But he can’t bring himself to walk away.

Your sounds change. Punctuated. Like you’re crying out for more with every thrust. Johnny can just barely hear the wet smack of flesh on flesh, of your cunt gushing she takes everything Simon has to give.

“Yes, yes— Simon, oh, fuck— please? Oh my god—“

Johnny’s used to getting so horny is brain fogs up. It’s normal for him to get hard and think “this is the hardest I’ve ever been”. But this time it might be true. And he hates it. Why didn’t you sound this good in his bed? Why did he give a fuck?

He knew why you didn’t sound as good back the . He could hear your cries being swallowed by Simon’s mouth as he kissed you. Fucker probably had you in missionary (he did) and was holding your hand (he was) while cooing in your ear about how gorgeous you were and how perfect you felt (it was more like growling).

You were getting fucked proper. And here he was, the once proud hound now pawing at the master’s door like a stray. He doesn’t just want you back, which is horrific enough to realize— he wants to be in the room with the both of you. Wants to see how Simon’s cock is making you feel religion. Wants to stroke his cock and watch how it’s done, then take a turn in your creamy pussy after he’s done and get scolded with Simon’s hand pinching his neck from the back— scolded for not knowing how to fuck you, love you, appreciate what you’d—

Your near sobbing cry from beyond the door snaps free the coil that’d wound so tight in his belly.

Oh fuck. No, no, no. He couldn’t have. Untouched? Never— not him. Fuck.

You’re on your side, nestled under Simon’s arm and nuzzling into his chest when you hear a door slam in the hallway.

do u think the cod men would wanna be pegged that’s crazy who said that

They all be in the showers putting fingers in each others BUTTHOLES man sometimes as a prank sometimes as… uhh…. Uhhh

Gaz will bring it up if he’s playing with your ass and you flinch. “Let you play with mine if you want, love. Hell, I’d let you fuck it.”

Johnny has been joking about it since before you were even having sex. He might be a little blush and squeamish when he has to put his money where his mouth is, but he’s so into it.

Ghost initially says no because he’s terrified of being put in such a vulnerable and emasculating position— he’s insanely guarded. But if you bring it up… he won’t be able to stop thinking about it.

Price is bringing it up, in sincerity, on date 5. He already has all the supplies and his ass is ready.

König like. Is not comprehending the appeal of what you’re asking— on either side. Not sure what you get out of it, what he would get out of it. Just play with his hole a little when you’re giving his head.

Nikolai— see Price’s response, but change it to date 2.5 (Casual breakfast after spending a night together)

Thinking about Simon Riley standing on a bridge in the dead of night on Christmas Eve trying to get the energy to jump off. Snow falling down and dampening all the sounds around him.

All the sounds except the crunching of boots as someone approaches, someone bundled up to the gills in their coat and scarf (but no hat on to cover the ridiculous haircut that makes them look years younger, as if the cherry red of their nose didn’t do that already).

“Planning on takin’ a swim?”

“No. Hoping I sink.”

“Big lad like you very well might.”

“Ta.”

“Come back to mine,” he says. “Sleep on it.”

“Always hit on men tryin’ to die?”

“They’re usually the only ones desperate enough to say yes. Got a clean couch and a cup of coffee in it fer ye.”

“Prefer tea.”

“I’m walking away then!”

A snort. He sticks out a hand, fingers stiff and pale from the cold. No gloves. Cautiously says: “Name’s Simon.”

“John.”

“You won’t try to stop me in the morning?”

“No promises.”

“Lead the way to this couch then, Johnny.”

immeasurably self indulgent,,

just got a retainer so i had to make the experience a little kinky. enjoy this john x reader meet cute

you weren’t meant to smoke with your retainer in, but you’d left the case at home and holding it in your palm while you you fumbled with your lighter outside didn’t seem like a viable option either. so instead you made a solemn promise to your dentist in your head to floss extra thoroughly that evening to make up for it.

and you couldn’t be too mad at yourself really. not when you might not have bumped in to john at the pub otherwise.

he’d joined you after raising a brow at the empty spot next to you on the bench and huddled in closer than socially acceptable after a moment when you shivered from the winter chill in the air, even wrapped up in your big puffer coat.

heat seemed to seep from him like the heavy smoke from his lips as he pulled on his cigar and you happily and greedily soaked it up from where his arm and thigh lightly sat against yours. you smiled thinly but politely as you lifted your cigarette to your lips.

the smell of his cigar was cloying, too thick and earthy for your tastes, even as a long time smoker, but you didn’t say a word as he blew it into the wind, unwilling to ruin the little bit of peace you’d found.

it felt intimate sat there just the two of you in the dark early evening; your friends just a hairbreadths away inside but none the wiser to the silent, temporary companion you’d made on the rickety bench.

you were the designated driver tonight, decided when you’d gotten to your friend’s house and realised you’d kept your retainer in by habit and wouldn’t be able to drink without damaging it. the group had encouraged you to go ahead anyway but the price of the bloody thing had you hesitating and offering to drive everyone home instead in your friend’s beaten up ford focus.

and yet despite the precautions you’d taken early on in the evening, here you were anyway.

you’d just have to get yourself some good dental cleaner tomorrow for it and hope dr singh didn’t notice any staining when you next saw her; mouthwash would have to do for tonight to freshen it up again.

“don’t think i’ve seen you around before,” your companion spoke as you dotted out your tab end against the ashy brick wall to your left, an unspoken ashtray going by the litter of filters gathered on the floor at your feet. “i’m john.”

“i’m here celebrating a friend’s engagement,” you said with a small smile. “it’s not my usual haunt, but she likes it and the ciders cheap enough.”

john winced. “don’t tell me you drink that swill.”

“not tonight, at least,” you snorted. “not good enough for your… acquired taste?” you paused to nod at his cigar with a wrinkled nose. pungent.

john huffed, biting back a smile.

“what are you drinking tonight then? said you’re celebrating, so you on the champers?” he asked.

“last time i checked they were ordering shots,” you recalled with a grin.

“aye? wanted to be able to buy you a drink when we got back inside, maybe convince you to talk to me a little longer where it wasn’t freezing cold. but i can do a round of shots for you and your mates instead.” at the mention of the chill you felt your hands ache and your legs clench to halt your shivering. john was warm, but without the distraction of a cig, you were suddenly a lot colder.

“that’s kind, but im on the lemonade. staying sober for the night so we can avoid taxis since this was all a little last minute.”

“ahh,” john nodded. “so no chance of you finding me charming enough to come have a cuppa back at mine later then.”

“oh that was supposedly in the cards for you tonight, was it?” you laughed, taken aback by his confidence and assumption.

“i’ve been told i’m pretty convincing,” he winked and took another puff. “shame though.”

“mm, is that so?”

“aye. for you in particular,” he continued to tease. “because i’ve also been told i’m a great kisser.”

“have you ever been told you’re a bit of a brag?” you asked.

“is it bragging if you can back it up?” he asked seriously. his eyes dropped to your lips before looking back up again. “and i do make a great brew.”

“coffees more my thing,” you said, leaning into his arm.

he took a deep pull with a shake of his head. he let the smoke go as he spoke, curling in the air like you could touch the humour lacing the words on his tongue. “cider and coffee. not sure if this is gonna work out between us after all, love.”

you couldn’t help but giggle, kicking yourself for falling for his charms as easily as he said you would.

he smiled as he looked at you.

“alright, so i can’t prove that i can make a proper brew, but i can prove the other thing if you’re interested,” he offered. his cigar was close to a stub, half burnt down from all of the talking. you’d imagine he’d be angry at the waste if you weren’t so caught up in his trap, readily hitting each mark he laid out for you perfectly.

“hmm, going to warm me up?”

“like you’re not already hot ‘n’ bothered,” he scoffed under his breath, though you were close enough to catch it, and slipped one arm around your back. he pulled you closer by the hip and leant down so your noses touched. “are ya gonna let me?”

you nodded minutely and in the next breath he was cupping your face to tilt your chin up ever so slightly. you don’t know where he dropped his cigar stub but it was far from your mind as his rough beard caught on the sensitive skin of your cheeks and lips, chapped from the cold.

your writhed in his hold on the small bench, eager for more before giving him the chance to get started. begging for his heat and touch and tongue.

your breath hitched when one of his hands slipped beneath your thick coat and wiggled its way under your shirt, squeezing and palming at you fervently, like he was just as desperate. he bit at your lip and you whined, digging your hands into his shoulders where you held on tight, tugging him closer as your thighs clenched and shifted, knocking his own.

he smiled as he ducked back in to kiss you, pleased at your reaction, skimming his thumb beneath your bra and slipping his tongue passed your lips when you moaned.

your tongues brushed and you opened up wider when his hand pressed gently - just a suggestion - at your jaw, before using his height to angle over you and kiss you deeper.

“john,” you breathed out, barely able to speak as he dove back in with a heated groan.

he licked at your teeth and suddenly you both froze. you’d never felt so aware of yourself as you felt his tongue prod at your lower teeth once more, quick sharp, before he pulled back.

you felt red hot embarrassment fill you head to toe as you suddenly recalled your retainer. you prepped yourself, ready for his disgust confusion or pity, and pulled back reserved. frustration prodded at you as you saw john lift his fingers to his tongue with a frown, checking his fingertips for blood when he pulled them back.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurted. “i forgot i had my retainer in.”

his eyes widened in understanding and his frown disappeared. “caught my tongue on the edge i think, woulda been more careful if i knew,” he laughed. you were happy to realise it wasn’t at you. it was at himself. “too bloody eager, wasn’ i? slobbering on you like a dog.”

“i liked it,” you admitted quietly, your shoulders high out of bashfulness instead of embarrassment now.

“aye?” his grin was slow but satisfied, eyes hooded as he pressed closer again. “wanna do it again?”

you grinned back but before you nodded you bit your lip and lifted a hand to touch a tooth covered by your retainer with a finger.

“i don’t have the case with me, i can’t take it out,” you said, worried you were rapidly ruining the mood after somehow managing to keep john interested.

he shrugged, unbothered. “keep it in.”

you blinked, taken aback. “o-ok.”

“what d’you need it for anyway? used to have braces? got a cute photo of you grinning with a mouth full of metal?” he teased.

you rolled your eyes. “i clench my jaw all the time, cracked a tooth because of it. my dentist is hoping this might help,” you explained.

john licked his lips as his gaze dropped to your mouth. you could’ve sworn his own breath seemed suddenly laboured and that his hand felt heavier when it rested high up on your thigh.

he dragged his eyes back up to yours and smiled a little lecherously, eyes darker than they’d been all night. “i can think of a way to train y’out of that.”

So I’ve been staying at a hotel lately and running out of clean clothes, so I’ve been sleeping in the hotel robe, which inevitably doesn’t stay closed and exposes my tits at some point in the night.

Anyways. Imagine sharing a room with Soap.

The whole time he’s been playing up how normal it is. Sleeping in the same room. Leaving the bathroom door open. Seeing each other’s weird habits. Cause you’re best mates, so it’s not weird. You’re one of the guys, a member of the team— you’ve been together through thick and thin. You’ve slept in closer quarters than this on deployment.

Until you’re sleeping and your robe opens up, and suddenly he’s reminded that you’re his best mate with the soft, inviting body of a girl.

And he’s just a man, bonnie. Cannae be blamed for what happens next, y’ken?

Johnny’s one of those boyfriends that suddenly remembers you exist and roams the house seeking you out. No real rhyme or reason to it he just wants to see you, peeks into wherever you are and reminds himself you’re still around.

Johnny’s one of those boyfriends who randomly grabs you and shakes you around, I fear you’re going to be a victim of cuteness aggression for the rest of your life.

Johnny’s one of those boyfriends who grabs at your ass when he’s bored, like it’s his own personal stress ball. Same thing with your tits.

Johnny’s one of those boyfriends who blows raspberries into your stomach while he’s laying down on you, even if you hate it. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Johnny’s one of those boyfriends who knows how to have a laugh when you’re having sex. He brought a glow in the dark condom once and you said his dick looks like a neon green Kermit and he laughed so hard he almost forgot where he was. Almost.

Johnny’s one of those boyfriends who actively gets upset if you try to crawl away from him while you’re cuddling, like ACTUALLY upset, it’s not even funny, don’t try it.

part 2 to this... the mutual parasocial relationship thickens

when i was a homeless 20-year-old i was rejected from multiple housing opportunities because i had 5k in medical debt from going to the ER after getting roofied and sexually assaulted (i was unconscious so calling 911 was not my decision) and UHC denied my insurance claim. so yeah, i'm actually deriving an enormous amount of pleasure from watching health insurance CEOs snivel and hide like the heartless cowards they are. may those who profit from our suffering live in fear of those they seek to deny.

short comic based off that one post where sevika first meets silco by mistaking him for a butch lesbian (idk how the timelines work don't think too hard abt the ages lol)

oh no cigarettes for me thanks i just wanted to be in this dank alleyway with you

Dumb thing that would not leave my brain

falls to my knees crying THAT FUCKING COUCH SNIPPET JM GOING TO EXPLODE

guys. I miss them. I miss harmless fun

I eat up harmless fun crumbs like nobody’s business

— puppy teeth 🦷 anon

I miss them too

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

Upcoming au wip✍️

Inspired by this post and @waves-against-a-cliff "Cbf!Johnny" comment. I present more of John Mactavish as the dog he is.

cw: dubcon(reader agrees but just covering my bases), f!reader, overstimulation

Living with Johnny was an easy decision. You've known him your whole life, and with his frequent deployments you usually have the flat to yourself. It's like living alone, except sometimes your best friend is around for "long term sleep overs" as he pitched them. He has his share of the bills on autopay and for the most part it's fun when he's around. You watch movies and throw popcorn at each other. You laugh at his stupid jokes in between complaining about your most recent attempt at dating.

"You know it wouldn't be so bad if any of them were halfway decent in bed," You tell Johnny absentmindedly. He's got his head in your lap, eyes focused on the TV screen as your fingers pet through his hair, barely paying attention.

"Hard getting practice in, not like you can ask a bird to play test dummy," He shrugs. You groan, leaning back against the couch. You guess that's fair, but it's not like you're asking for anything spectacular. An orgasm shouldn't be this hard to come by.

"The special service isn't training you to give head?" You tease.

"No that's just the navy." Johnny grins, finally turning his attention to you. His eyes dart over you, he's got that spark in his eyes that means he has a bad idea. "You know," He rolls the idea over his tongue, "I'm a little out of practice."

You push at his head with a laugh. Johnny sits up rather than be pushed off the couch and grabs your hips to drag you close. You shriek and feel his fingers pinching at your soft sides until you laugh.

"Good for both of us, yeah?" He asks, "I get to practice and you get off."

"You're not funny," You giggle out between fits of laughter. You twist in his grip to crawl away and he pulls you right back. His fingers tighten hard enough to bruise and you whine at the ache. "Ow, Johnny." You kick at him and he catches your ankle, flipping you onto your back.

"Lemme see your cunt." He says and the air rushes from your lungs. You stare up at him, his smile too wide. You've always found his toothy grin to be boyish, charming, but now it feels warning, predatory. You blink at him, feeling your cheeks starting to burn.

"Not funny," You tell him more firmly, turning to tug yourself out of his grip, your fingers twisting against the arm of the couch. You forget how strong military life has made him, too familiar with the scrawny kid you used to beat at footie. Johnny pulls you with a strength you've never felt, hauls you down the couch to lean over you. He's actually starting to scare you a little, the heat in his eyes is too close to burning and his teeth seem so dangerously promising.

"I'm not joking," His fingers drag from your hip, trail down to rest against the soft swell of your mons. He holds your legs open with the hand around your ankle and you struggle to take a breath. "Who else am I gonna practice on? You tell me what you like, yeah? And I'll show you what I can do with my tongue."

"Johnny I don't-"

"Ya were just sayin' you're in a dry spell," He reasons, his fingers rubbing teasingly between the waistband of your sleep shorts and just dipping too close to your clit, "can tell me exactly what you want as long as you want, know ple'ny of hens would love this opportunity."

Somehow that gets you. You wince at the mention of someone else, Johnny's never been one to date but he brings girls home sometimes. Or- no he usually goes to their place. Stays out late drinking with the boys and doesn't come home until late in the morning. You scrunch your brows together and he starts in on the begging.

"Please hen? Please," He pouts, dropping to rest his chin against your hip, "please? Please. Lemme do it. You gotta. Please. Ahm askin' nice an' everythin'. Please, please, please."

"Christ," you push at his face, just so you don't have to look at it anymore, "Fine, but just this once."

"Just this once tonight," Johnny agrees too quickly, already ripping your shorts down your legs.

You expected any sort of hesitation, but it feels like you've barely gotten your pants off before Johnny's pressed his mouth to your pussy. His tongue licks broad stripes, his head wiggles to try and push closer, lips kissing and sucking at your folds so eagerly it makes your head spin. You swallow, he's messy, unorganized, but the enthusiasm is there. Your fingers find his hair again and you swallow down your hesitation a second time. Johnny's your best friend, you can tell him anything, so you can tell him what you like.

"My clit," You start, tugging at his hair, "lick- lick it, um-" Johnny follows directions well, moving easily to flick his tongue against your clit. It's too gentle, maddeningly gentle, you can just barely feel it. "Harder," You suggest, "more pressure." Johnny presses his tongue harder against you, laves his tongue like a wave against your clit with firm pressure. You whine, feel him drag his mouth against you, his beard scratching your sensitive thighs. His tongue maintains its position, licking at your clit with varying degrees of intensity, testing the waters and listening to your soft panting whines.

You meet his baby blue eyes, his pupils blown wide, and he pulls back to let you see the way his tongue moves. Flat and pink, flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves in teasing licks before he lowers down again. "You can s-suck too," You manage.

"Where hen?" He asks, lips closing around your clit and sucking hard. Your next words die on your tongue, your mind flooded with the sudden pleasure. His pulls back, and you try to come up with the words again, watching his thumbs spread your folds to further expose your clit to him. He sucks at it again, tongue working against it when his lips aren't pulling it. He only stops to work his tongue between your folds, dragging the tip around your hole to collect slick before pulling it towards your clit. "Gotta be specific or I won't know."

He's such a cheeky fucking bastard. He sucks at your folds, sucks at your thighs as his thumb rubs over your clit. Johnny's mouth is on your clit every time you open your mouth to give another direction. He works you up and then lets you drop back down, his lips kissing over your like he has all night.

"Fuck," You whine, hips following his mouth as he drags his tongue from your hole to your clit, "Johnny." He hums, lips around your clit, tongue fluttering against the sensitive bud. "Your tongue my-" He pulls off with a wet noise, and holds his tongue against your slit, waiting like a dog for your next order, "-my, uh-" fuck, having to ask for it out loud is embarrassing, and yet the heat on your cheeks has started to spread through your entire body, "-my hole. Please." You tack the politeness onto the end. You feel a little... guilty asking, but it's Johnny and he asked you to do this. (sort of)

"Look at you," Johnny coos, "such a good girl, so polite when ya want somethin'." You throw your arm over your eyes so you don't have to look at him. Your skin burns with embarrassment. You can't look at him right now.

"Shut up," You mumble. You feel his tongue prod at your clenching hole, the squirmy muscle wiggling it's way inside you to lap at your gummy walls. Johnny sucks your slick straight from the source and groans. The noises he makes, the wet slurping and sucking, make your blood run hot. His thumb rubs at your clit, his tongue stretching you out, the combination makes your cunt tingle with pleasure. Your whines sound more desperate than you'd hoped.

Johnny pulls back, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up your cunt. His licks are long and desperate, too eager to taste you, his eyes closed in bliss even as his ears twitch with your every moan. His mouth leaves you, and you pull your head up from where you'd been arching off the couch to see what he needs. Meeting his gaze is a mistake. As soon as your eyes touch his hand comes down hard on your clit. You yelp, as his fingers soothe over the sting. The sharp pain dissolves into heat, tingles over your skin like a rush of goosebumps. His fingers tap at your clit, and you whimper.

"You gotta keep talkin' hen," He presses, his fingers toying with your folds, "or I might start pullin' at the leash."

"You hit me," You whine. He pouts at you, imitating your own pout, and spanks you again. Your hips jump, your head dropping back against the couch. Two more sharp stinging spanks hit you and your stomach clenches. You can feel slick dripping off of your cunt and wetting the couch underneath you, which means Johnny can feel it too.

"Think you like it," Johnny grins, his fingers press into your cunt, two thick digits filling you without warning. You whine, clenching around the intrusion. "I thought you were helpin' me practice," His fingers twist in and out of you, and you grab for his wrist, "Where's my polite girl gone, hm?"

You squeeze his wrist, try to get him to stop fucking you with those delicious twisting jabs. It only makes him fuck his thick fingers into you faster. You gasp, your muscles tightening as he hits that delicious sweet spot you never seem able to find yourself. Moans drip from your lips, his fingers only slowing when Johnny lowers his mouth to suck at your clit again. You try to blink the stars from your eyes, your lashes fluttering until you can't keep your eyes open anymore. Your pleasure crashes into you with shaking legs, your pussy fluttering greedily around Johnny's fingers.

It's not good enough for him. His mouth leaves you, his breath heavy, and his fingers thrust into you hard. You writhe against the couch, your whines turning high and tight. The spring in your stomach coils and coils, holding you at an edge that doesn't seem to have an escape. The begging in your head falls out of your mouth.

"Please, please," You sob, your hips humping Johnny's fingers, "please Johnny, gonna come."

"Oh bonnie thing," He coos, his fingers picking up their pace, "you come as much as you want, my polite girl." His words split through you. Your back arches, your hips jump, the tightness turns into popping heat and wetness, and you come. Your slick squirting up his arm as he makes soft encouraging noises. Johnny's fingers never stop moving, your orgasm drawn up and released again and again until your hips hurt. Your insides ache, your cunt pushing at his fingers desperately for a break.

Your head is spinning, your vision blurry and your body heavy when you find enough energy to open your eyes. You glance down at Johnny, watch the way he rubs his cock against you. His tip is red and angry, drooling, the length is already coated in the slick it pulls from between your legs. You twitch when he nudges your clit, whimper at the sensitivity.

"Johnny?" He isn't looking at you, eyes glued on the mess between your legs, on the glaze of your come coating your pussy, dripping down your thighs. He wrenches his gaze from you only to shush you, leaning over your body to press his lips against your cheek.

"Just practice," He mumbles, "doesn't count, doesn't mean anythin', does it dummy?"

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance.

he’d piss me off so bad with that terrible attitude problem of his and a tiny raise of his voice would make me break down into tears but god i need that old man in my guts IMMEDIATELY

Never back down never what? Cause if you thought I was joking when I said I was going to draw everything in this style…

poor Sevika's been embarrassed ever since, yet still stuck around😔✊

Hello! It’s been so so cold and snowy here lately and I’ve had to brush off my car whenever I leave because of the snow and it kind of had me thinking about neighbour!simon Riley who sees his little neighbour doing this and just refuses to let her freeze her but off. So eventually whenever she goes to leave her car is literally always cleared off and she’s just like. What??? Until one day she sees him doing it and runs out in her pjs to ask why. Anyways yeah I thought it was cute :p

You know honestly? This is so cute and I thought more on it.

Being Simon’s neighbor is so weird. He’s barely at his own place. He’s got almost no furniture or any personalization to speak of. But I don’t think this is your first neighborly exchange.

Someone’s gotta be gathering up all the junk mail for him so it doesn’t just become litter on his lawn. Someone’s gotta be raking up the leaves on his tiny patch of grass and taking them to the curb in autumn. Someone’s gotta be uprighting his unused bins when they blow down in the wind. And Simon knows it’s not the busybody next door who gives him dirty looks and says he dresses like a hoodlum when she thinks he’s out of earshot.

So Simon does what any emotionally well adjusted adult man would do. He falls in love with you. And no, he’s not going to say anything to you about it. Instead, he’s going to return these acts of service in, what is in his mind, a clear display of reciprocal courting. And that definitely means he’s not letting you suffer out in the cold. Man is clearing your car, shoveling your walkway, salting the sidewalk, everything. Mate’s gotta stay in the den in this kind of weather.

Which is not something he can bring himself to say when you run out in your Sanrio jammies to ask him why he’s going this. So he just tells you he’s used to the cold, and he doesn’t like seeing you freeze. Also his name is Simon, by the way. You should tell him yours. It’s the polite thing to do.

zaun's prettiest

thanks felicia for making vanco real!!!!!

(he called him that bc i like how creators called him "dirty little thing". i wanted vander to treat him the other way around from the very beginning)

tw: self-shipping; emotional boner; premature ejaculation, mild degradation

Johnny gets hard when I listen to him.

As in, paying attention. Listening to his stories, his ramblings, his opinions, his problems. I never once tell him to shut up, he simply notices himself when he's been talking non-stop for more than an hour. I sigh, my eyes start drifting around the room. I'm like a dog making whale eyes and yawning, a cat flicking her tail, flattening her ears.

And then he gives me space until I invite him to continue; asking a question, for a followup, and he obliges happily.

We're just friends at this point, but he stopped having meaningless hookups a while ago. He won't admit it, but he couldn't get hard for the woman the last time he tried having meaningless sex. It shook him to his very core.

He even went to the dick doctor on base, but his dick is fine, which makes it even worse.

And then, one evening, as I'm cooking dinner for us, because he invited himself over again, his chatty voice fizzles out after talking non-stop, no period nor comma, and I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with him, show him that I'm still listening with a social cue.

But Johnny sits at the kitchen table, tattooed forearms resting on the top, spine rigid, breathing shallowly. He's staring at the wall as if seeing a ghost.

"You okay?" I ask, lowering the temperature on the stove to let the pasta sauce cook slowly.

"Mhm, 'course," he answers curtly, and he squirms on the chair, wood creaking under his weight.

I glance down, following the movement of his thick thighs in his jeans as he squeezes them together. My eyebrows draw together, crease now between them, an invisible question mark appearing above my head.

"The hell are you doing? Go pee if you have to. Dinner's not ready yet, anyway." I let out a laugh, because it sounds so stupid. He's a grown ass man. A spec ops soldier.

He lets out a half-snort/half-scoff at that.

"Dinnae 'ave ta take a piss," he retorts, all little too snappishly for my liking, and I almost feel like starting an argument just for shits and giggles.

"Then why did you stop talking? That's a fucking first." I taunt, dropping the wooden spoon on the counter before walking over to him, pushing at his shoulder with my fingertips.

He hisses and grits his teeth, looking like he's in pain. My attitude drops, and my expression softens. Perhaps he's having some sort of silent panic attack?

"Hey "

As I rest my palm on his back, rubbing the taut muscle mass in wide, soothing circles, he shudders and lets out a choked moan. A sound that has my whole being freeze, my hand stilling on his back.

"Keep going, keep going, keep go "

His head tips back, lips parted with a soft groan, and our eyes meet over his shoulder. His bright blue, unnecessarily pretty eyes look hazy, his pupils blown. As I peer down at his crotch, I notice the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. I always had a hunch that he's big.

No man, this cocky and capable, has a small dick.

"Are you a little excited there, Johnny?" I coo at him, palm rubbing over his back again as I lift my other hand to rest on his left shoulder, massaging lightly.

He has the audacity to nod and let out another throaty groan before swallowing audibly.

"Can you come without touching your cock?"

He nods again, his eyelids flutter, and cheeks begin to blush furiously. I've never seen that look on him before, but I enjoy it tremendously.

"Of course, you can, you fucking pervert."

Johnny huffs in what sounds in agitation, but his blush only deepens in colour and I can practically watch his cock twitch and drool in his pants.

I reach up to tug on his short Mohawk, enough to pull his head back further, and he lets out a high-pitched groan before squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Pretend ye didnae hear tha' ah," he pleads, hands balling into fists on the tabletop as I give his short hair another firm tug.

"Aw, I think I won't," I reply, leaning forward to murmur against his temple, lips pressing against his burning skin, "Actually, I think... I'll make sure that sound you made is burned into my brain, so I can use it for later, Johnny. For when I'm playing with my pretty wet pussy all by myself."

"Oh, fuck !" His thighs jerk, knees bumping and rattling the table as he lifts his hips, humping the air with a pathetic cry of pleasure.

I watch the dark stain on his blue jeans become bigger while slumps down in the chair, and I keep rubbing his shoulders while he catches his ragged breath.

Muzzled at last.

I give his back a few gentle pats, pretending I'm fine, even though my heart is racing and my mind along with it. I just made him cum in his pants. Hands-free.

"Wanna talk about it, champ?" I croon, glancing at him over my shoulder as I walk back over to the stove, tending to dinner.

He lifts his hand to flip me off.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Third time’s the charm. Simon/fem!reader. Handjobs, edging, cumming untouched, thigh riding, femdom behavior, somewhat submissive!simon, literally tried to cure my depression with this (did not work)

-

“You said you usually go three times in a session. We should try one more time, shouldn’t we?” 

Ghost looks at you like you’ve grown an extra set of eyes. He shakes his head a little, his eyes hard and disbelieving when they meet your own. “Have I not embarrassed myself enough for you?”

“Not really—? I mean—fuck,” you fumble, running a hand down face. “That didn’t come out right. I just meant that I don’t feel like you have any reason to be embarrassed.” 

He stares at you, through you, like if he looks long and hard enough he’ll be able to see your truth straight down to your bones. Well let him look. He hadn’t exactly bared his soul during the few weeks you had spent discussing this before meeting in person, but he had told you plenty: his issue had cost him relationships. It had cost him jobs thanks to lack of focus. Friendships thanks to neglect. You couldn’t imagine anyone willingly choosing something which gave them so much suffering. His lack of complicity cleared him of any blame in your eyes. 

At length, he must see that there is some honesty in you. Looking like it pains him, he nods his head, hulking shoulders deflating a little. “Fine. One more time. I’ll need a few minutes though.”

“That’s fine,” you offer, and it is, or at least it would be if it meant you both didn’t have to sit in complete silence, Ghost uneager to offer up conversation topics and you too awkward to try. 

He keeps staring at you, too. Or more specifically, your breasts. You’re wearing a simple t-shirt, but the effect is aided by one of your prettier bras. You had worn it unsure if Ghost was serious in his insistence that there would be no sex taking place between you both 

It seemed a pity for it to go to waste. 

“Do you want to see?” you ask him, fingers finding the hem of your shirt and gripping it tightly, folding it a little anxiously back and forth like an accordion’s bellows. 

“See? What? No—!”

“I don’t mind, honestly.”

Ghost reaches up a hand to rub at one eye like a headache is forming behind it. His mouth never abandons its signature frown, even as he says, “If you want? Jesus, fuck. I don’t know. I’m not going to stop you.”

You find that you do want. You kneel up, take the hem of your t-shirt into your hands and work it up over your breasts. For all his lack of enthusiasm, his eyes crack open straightaway and glue themselves to you, widening a little at the sight of your strappy, lace-laden bra. 

“I know you didn’t fucking wear that for me,” he says, sounding winded. 

“I’ll be honest, I thought this was just a ploy to hook up. I wore the matching panties too, do you—“

“Stop—talking,” he mutters, closing his eyes. His hand reaches down towards his (valiantly hardening) cock, but thinks twice, turns into a fist, and comes to rest at his side. “And under no circumstance should you take your pants off.”

“Got it. Pants stay on.”

Ghost sighs. “I’m ready. Let’s get it over with.”

That’s the spirit, you think to yourself dryly. You lift your hand to your mouth, creating a little cup with your palm and to spit in, your eyes locked on his own. You hear the click as he swallows, but it’s progress that he doesn’t cum, right? That must mean that he had experienced some level of desensitization, either to you as a partner or to the specific stimulus or a mixture of both. 

But that’s not how this is supposed to work. The whole point is to help him learn to last when he’s as desperate as possible, hoping that edging when he’s truly suffering will lead to a more satisfying orgasm and therefore a need for fewer of them. 

You lower your hand instead of spitting and grip the hem of your shirt, tugging it off over your head altogether. Ghost can’t seem to find his tongue, staring at you with dark, huge eyes as you reach around back and fumble with the clasp of your bra, but at last that comes undone, and you peel it away from you, letting it join his jeans and your shirt on the floor. 

His eyes rake over your naked breasts, mouth forming a curse that he lacks the breath to whisper. His cock is so hard and heavy that it lays against his belly, thick and twitching. 

You shift and straddle his thighs just proximal to his knees. He fists the bedsheets, abs tensing sharply as he watches you with silent awe and trepidation. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

“Getting comfortable?” you suggest. 

Now you cup your hand and spit into it. Then you offer it to him, holding out your hand expectantly. Looking wary, he leans up onto his elbows, ducks his head, and spits into your hand too, quite delicately for being a giant of a man. 

You take your hand and place it palm down against where his cock lays on his belly, slicking the underside from top to bottom. Ghost groans, a low sound torn deep from his chest. He collapses off of his elbows and onto his back, hands finding his eyes and palming at them again while you slick his cock all over with a delicate touch, barely more than a tickle. 

“Are you teasin’ me?” he grits out. 

“I would never.” The tips of your wet fingers trail down over his balls, tight and drawn up against his body already. He hisses through his teeth, cock flexing. You fight a grin. 

Taking him firmly in your hand, you give him a series of smooth, slow strokes, your hand loose and gentle where it is cupped around him. His body writhes against the sheets. 

“Stop, please stop,” he gasps, and you do, letting his cock fall to rest against his belly with a soft thud. He opens his eyes, takes one look at your tits, and squeezes them shut again. ”Fuck, can’t believe you took your shirt off.” 

“I can put it back on if you want.” 

“Really don’t want that. Really fucking don’t. Just—sit there. Please,” he tacks on to the end like an afterthought. You’re grateful to have received a please at all. He takes deep, slow breaths, his nostrils flaring as he strains for air. 

When he gives you a curt nod, eyes still firmly closed, you reach down and use one hand to grip the base of his cock. The other you place toward the head so that you can softly drag your thumb over the deep red tip, tracing the sensitive ridge and over the leaking slit. He whines, honest to god whines, a sound which you feel viscerally in your belly and lower. You shift on his thighs, wondering if it would be so bad to just straddle one, to get some pressure right where you need it most. It’s not like there’s any sort of propriety in a situation like this. He’s getting his, why can’t you get yours? 

You use your thumb to trace a vein up the length of his shaft and smooth the slick over his tip, polishing it softly. 

“Fucking—! Stop! Stop!” 

You stop, and you swallow an unhappy sound. Things had just been getting fun—for you, at least. Ghost looks like he’s being put through the wringer, redness creeping down his neck to disappear under his shirt, knuckles white where he grips the sheets, breaths rapid and shallow. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He laughs a little, a self-deprecating, unhappy sound. “You’re too good at that.” 

“Good with my mouth too,” you say on a whim. 

His eyes flash open, wide and surprised (and narrowed in on your mouth), his lips parted in a look of near comical astonishment. His hand scrambles to grip around the base of his cock, squeezing painfully. “You—you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

“Way more than I thought I would,” you admit. “An obscene amount, honestly—I’m so wet—“

Ghost releases his death grip around his balls and strokes his cock, once, twice, thrice, quick little strokes as his face crumples, as he gives up on the whole fucking thing. You can see it in his face, the defeat, the submission. He’s going to jerk himself off to a quick, unsatisfying release—but it doesn’t seem fair. 

“Stop,” you hiss, reaching out to grip his wrist. He lets go of himself like he’s been burned, immediately obedient even as his face twists with fury. He pulls away from your touch but watches as you shift until just one of his thick thighs is between your own. 

You give a soft, gentle sway of your hips against him. His face is so fucking expressive, his eyes and brows and mouth telegraphing his every little thought and feeling. He watches you with something like tortured awe, eyes flickering towards where your clothed pussy rubs against his bare thigh. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” you breathe, pleasure zipping up your spine at the friction against your cunt. “I want to see if you can cum like this.”

“Came went you spat in your fucking hand,” he breathes, abs tensing, cock twitching as precum pools in his happy trail, watching as you get yourself off against his thigh. “Can cum like this no fucking problem.” 

“You’re not as sensitive now,” you pant, planting a hand against his tensed chest to gain the leverage you need to lengthen the rolling of your hips. 

“Am too.”

“We’ll see.”

His face twists. “Will you—keep going? Even if I do?”

You consider for a moment and then shake your head, breaths too shallow to make words properly. You feel saturated, swollen and sensitive. Every drag of your hips sends muted pleasure up your spine. Normally this would take you ages to cum, but you haven’t been this worked up in a long time. Watching Ghost’s cock turn shades of red and plum is like live pornography, obscene and arousing. Feeling a little cruel, you tell him: “Gotta hold it.”

He tenses his thighs, heels digging into the bed. It does something to the muscle pressed against your cunt and makes your nails dig into his chest. 

He’s shaking his head. “No. Negative. Can’t.”

“Hafta.” 

“Can’t—fuck, I—“

“Goddamnit Ghost,” you whine, hips working feverishly against him. “Hold it and let me cum.”

He really can’t—really and truly. His cock spurts against his belly, a pitiful amount of pearly cum as he groans low and long, moan forming half-hearted, breathy apologies: sorry, ‘m sorry, couldn’t hold it—

You groan, a sound more frustrated than aroused. Your hips slow and stop, and your mouth fights to make a pout. You will it away. It really isn’t his fault. 

“You…you don’t have to stop,” he says, a little shyly. 

You shift off of him and swallow your own sigh, feeling sticky and unsatisfied. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “Maybe next time I’ll get my pants off.” 

His cock, spent, still twitches against his belly. 

in all timelines and in all possibilities 🫶🏻

key frames below the line!!

tw: self-shipping; male masturbation

I'm terrible at edging when it comes to my own self, but I'd relish in making Johnny lose his composure, his mind, his own damn soul.

He's a very sexual individual. Always ready to go with little to no effort. I have to give him a look and his cock is chuffing in his pants.

The poor lad is just sitting on the couch, minding his business and watching a rugby match when I approach him, just staring and admiring until he quirks an eyebrow.

"Take a picture, lass. It lasts longer."

He's getting hard in his sweatpants. I can see his cock give a curious twitch and I feel my own pussy buzz with excitement as if the two are calling out to each other.

"Are you mad that your team is losing?" I tease, slowly approaching the couch while he squirms already, like a dog waiting for pets.

"No," he huffs, gripping the remote control tighter as he glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, "What's yer mission 'ere? Ye wee minx."

I kiss my teeth, crossing my arms as I watch his cock get harder; his neck flushes and it creeps up his stubbly cheek. Damn horny brat.

"You should pull your dick out," I make a gesture at his crotch and make a jerking motion with my hand, "Play with it a little for me."

His eyes light up, his chest heaves as he inhales sharply, and his Adam's apple bops when he swallows hard.

"...'scuse me? Ye ovulatin' or sumthin'?" He snorts a laugh, but his hands are already untying the laces on his sweatpants; one meaty reaching inside as the other rolls the grey fabric down below his balls. He rucks his white T-shirt up to expose his muscular, bulky torso, covered in coarse, dark hair.

"You're a good boy, right? So, do as I say, Johnny."

His brows furrow, his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth, annoyed, but his cockhead is flushed an angry red and his shaft throbs with need.

"Gimme sumthin' ta work with, then." He clicks his tongue and nudges his chin at me as his fist moves, up and down, up and down, "Show me yer tits."

I tilt my head back as I laugh mockingly, and he curses me under his breath.

"Fuckin' tease," he grunts, "Always fuckin' teasin' yer poor man." He pumps his cock faster, the friction sounding painfully dry.

"Wait," I say, still snickering as I approach, nudging his legs apart with my foot before I kneel between his thick thighs. I grab his wrist, make him stop pumping his cock and hold it at the root instead before I lean over his tip to spit a generous glob of my saliva on his cock.

"There... much better."

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, head tipping back against the couch with a groan. The thick tendons in his neck strain while I can watch his slit dribble with pearly precum that mixes with my spit.

"Now suck it f'me, aye?" He hisses, pupils blown as he peeks down at me. His thumb brushes along the curve of my cheek, trying to coax me closer.

I shake my head with a grin, sitting back on my haunches, "Nah, you go ahead and jerk it for me. You know I like watching."

"Bloody minx." Johnny huffs, but does starts pumping his fat cock for me anyway. I'm squirming, my panties getting damper by the second; pussy gushing with arousal as the wet sounds of his hand working his cock, his hitching breath and shameless moans, drown out any other noise... and thoughts in my head.

I feel like a kitten watching a pretty toy twitch and wiggle in front of me, stimulating my hunting instincts until I'm ready to pounce.

"And remember... don't cum until I allow it, Sergeant."

I enjoy hearing Johnny whimper. His deep, breathless voice makes my stomach flip and flutter, and my pussy throb in anticipation.. Sometimes it's enough to get me all hot and bothered for him.

Perhaps I'm just as bad as he is.

hello has anyone ever thought about sevika accidentally taking more shimmer than she's used to thinking it'll be nothing but then realizing it was indeed something because she's feral. I'm talking drooling, biting, panting. coming home to fuck reader until the overwhelming feeling is out of her system even if you're full of scratches because her prosthetic arm is sharp and she's too far gone to control her strength. absolutely shameless, moaning into your neck like a bitch????

Texting the COD men that you can’t pay rent!

Tags: COD men x fem!Reader, smau, suggestive, nsfw on soap’s slide, cursing, mdni

An: Based off of the tiktok trend :3 I wanted to do this with JJK men, but I think the COD men make it even funnier. This is also my first COD smau. I went with the characters that I’m most comfortable portraying. lmk if you want to see more of them or someone else!

Incl - Ghost, König, Price, Keegan, Soap

toxic ex bf simon who sends you sweet lil vidzz

pt. two

your heart perks, before soaring into the depths of your stomach when the soft pad of your thumb hits the light gray button. and the video starts, playing for you like a record on command.

it’s him. simon. but he’s not his usual dark, brood stature of a man. no he’s laid back, hand wrapped around the pretty base of his cock, pinky and ring finger laid over the soft of his balls.

“i want you,” he speaks, muted slightly from the distance he sits from the phone, eyes trained on the camera. “i miss you, baby, please?”

and his begging comes to a close, hand smoothing up the skin of his girthy length, and his chest shudders, muscles contracting as he pleases himself just for you.

and you’re watching in something of awe and disgust. taking in the video, studying him, his body. there’s new gashes, bone noticeable beneath his thick skin. he’s dropped pounds, face looking something of a tired wreck.

“i can’t move on, honey, i need you.” he huffs, voice strained as if he can barely even begin to speak the words. it’s like he’s reeling through the phone at you, hitting you in the heart and between your sweet legs with his fuzzy words.

“fuckin’ miss you so bad, come back to me, cmon, baby,” he’s gasping, thick fingers working their way up and down, up and down his cock in a quick, steady pace.

and when you look closely, you can see the crystaly tears that drip down his cheeks, glinting and sparkling beneath the dim light. it has you reaching into your panties, has your knees shifting together in a race of goosebumps.

“call me, baby, lemme talk to you, promise im different, ill be better for you, sweet girl.” and when you hear the grit of words, your finger swipes, before tapping the lil phone button on the top to send him a call.

we all been here?

Simon was used to being in control. In every aspect of his life and especially in the bedroom—he dictated the pace, the rules, and the limits. It was his way of ensuring everything remained steady, predictable, and safe. 

But tonight felt different, you didn’t outright ask for his submission, or try to command dominance; you merely offered something deeper, a trust he wasn’t sure he could surrender to—until now.

As you guided him gently, his body yielding under your touch, it was like unraveling a part of Simon he rarely let anyone see—a man willing to trust, willing to let go.

And for the first time, he didn’t fight it.

Simon's breath comes in ragged gasps as you ride him. His body is slick with sweat, the pink ribbons biting into his skin as he strains against the bonds, his cock twitching helplessly inside your pussy.

"Look at you, so pretty tied up in pink."

Your words send a shiver down his spine, and he feels himself teetering on the edge once again. His balls draw up tight, his cock throbbing urgently inside you. He's so close, so fucking close and he’s lost count of how many times he’s orgasmed so far tonight.

"Baby... please-" he begs, his voice breaking on a moan. "I need... I need..."

Simon can’t even think right now, doesn’t know what he’s begging for. He only knows that he's drowning in the feeling of you, the haze of pleasure you’re giving him. 

You continue to ride him, milking him for all he's worth as your inner walls clench around his cock. And with a hoarse cry, he comes undone, his orgasm crashing over him. His vision whites out, his body convulsing as he spills his cum deep inside you. And still, you don’t give him a moment's respite, wringing every last drop of pleasure from his spent form as you get off him, only to coax him back to life with your skilled fingers.

"One more, baby," you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear. "Just one more for me."

He whimpers, his hips jerking weakly as you stroke him. He's so spent, so utterly drained, but the thought of denying you is unbearable. Slowly, reluctantly, his cock begins to harden once again in your grasp.

You shift position, lowering your mouth to the head of his cock. He gasps as your tongue swirls around the tip, lapping up the mingled fluids that coat his cock. Your hand pumps him in time with the movements of your mouth, stroking him firmly from base to tip, momentarily fondling his balls.

"God-" he groans, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. "You're gonna kill me- fuck -you know that?"

But even as he says it, he's desperately lifting his hips to thrust into your mouth. Eagerly chasing the pleasure that only you can give him. Your throat constricts around him as you take his cock deeper, and he feels his orgasm building once again, faster than he thought possible.

With a guttural moan, he comes undone, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. You swallow every bit of it, ensuring that not a single drop goes to waste, only releasing his cock once the last remnants of his orgasm fade. Simon’s chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath, he looks up at you, pleading, his expression almost vulnerable and in that instant you knew all his walls were down, all defenses stripped away.

His muscles flexed against the ribbons binding his wrists, aching to feel your soft skin beneath his fingertips. He wants nothing more than to pull you close and never let go.

"Please." he rasps, his voice husky and rough. "Can you untie me? Just wanna hold you-"

You lean over him, deft fingers working at untying the ribbons binding him. When they fall, he pushes himself up, his muscles aching a little.

He wraps his around you, body moulding to yours. Here with you, he feels complete in a way he never imagined possible, it feels like home. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he mutters against your skin, his lips caressing your pulse point. "I love you."

"I love you too." you whisper, holding him even closer as you run a hand through his hair.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

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