hi! i'm agora! i'm a film student who is rediscovering their love for writing! more personal info here along with what i do/don't write about.
i love to write about monsters, women (wlw), and tf141.
i used to write for genshin/stair rail, but i'm not into the games as much any more.
i love overwatch and the game’s women, but i finally abandoned the game after the years of mistreatment from the devs. maybe i'll write about them one day, lol.
also, i’m really into love and deepspace (specifically caleb). maybe i’ll write soon 👀
[i'm also really good at grammar. bug me if you need a proofreader.]
Y'all ever wondered what it would be like when Simon sees your big round tits and wants to milk 'em?
Warning: breastfeeding kink (or something like that, idk)
I mean the guy never got a good up bringing. Not much of maternal love for him either. So now that he is grown up, his ways of finding that kind of love in his partner is...twisted. Like, he'll randomly stand behind you when you are cooking and start to fondle your tits without warning. He keeps squeezing and massaging your supple chest until your nipples are pointing and aching to be suckled on.
You refuse to let him suckle though. It's embarrassing. I mean, come on, it feels weird to let him do that when you see how he keeps looking at your chest like a creep. You keep refusing him for sometime, he is just so persistent about it. But then, he stops trying to convince you finally and you think that everything's fine, right?
But in the next course of week, your breasts start to swell and ache. By the second week, the nipples start to ache for some release but you're not sure why. It just aches all over. You massage them but end up getting overstimulated from your already sensitive tits. By the third week, you begin to leak droplets of milk, staining your bra and t-shirt. You don't know how it happened or how to stop it. But the longer you don't let the milk out, the more it aches. You don't have any other choice but to tell Simon everything.
Simon, he listens carefully and suggests, "how about I suck it out a little, Lovie?"
You feel shy but give in to the suggestion anyways. And oh boy! Simon laches on to your tits the moment you nod to let him begin. He has lifted your shirt and bra up, his one hand rubbing your one tit while the his mouth is sucking on your other tit. He drinks your milk like a man starved. He hums in the ecstasy of it all. It only got more agressive when he heard you whimpering and moaning softly.
By the time simon was done, you did feel a little relieved.
Little did you know, it was all Simon's doing to make you lactate by mixing lactation drugs in your food just so you come to him willingly and he gets to suck your tits full of milk.
When you first met her in you'd shared how you adored the streams and update posts about the pre-hibernation bear week, blissfully unaware of her nature as a bear shifter, having enjoyed meeting someone who knew so much about bears as you traded facts back and forth. It wasn't a big surprise to your friends when you eventually started dating, showing up to a few get togethers with your lovely new beau on your arm, gushing about how you both knew so much about the same topics.
It was fate the way the two of you interacted, burying yourself into her warm hold, going feral over the sight of her curves when she wore tight clothing, endlessly complimenting the sight of your perfect girlfriend. Scoffing at people when they stared at the two of you, uncaring as you happily sighed and watched the bounce of your girlfriends chest, dreamily waiting for the chance to lay your head on those plush thighs as you stared up at her perfect face.
You were smitten.
About five months in she had shyly come to you and explained that she was a shifter, albeit in a way that made you panic as she hit you with 'we need to talk' and then 'its not about you, it's about me' in rapid succession. The way you had almost cried as she said those things made her speed through the explanation that she was in fact a werebear and would be away for a week in October, you'd sagged with relief at this, sniveling and whimpering that you thought she was going to leave you.
Only after a good cuddle and many, many soft kisses across your cheeks did you actually process what she had said.
Werebear, gone for a week in October, you made her laugh in the way you had switched from wiping tears to wide eyed excitement. Grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly as she smiled at you, asking if she was going to be prepping for hibernation and if you'd unintentionally seen her on the streams and updates, the sounds you'd made after she had confirmed she competed in the fat bear week the previous year was nothing short of a excited squeal.
You'd offered, no, insisted that you be allowed to help her get ready before the actual week long shift she was going to undertake.
Spending months looking up good ways to bulk, cooking fuller meals and heavy filling dishes as you gushed about how she would definitely win this year! Only occasionally moping about how you'd miss her while she hibernated, but knowing that when you did get to see her again, she'd be a champion and you'd take all the backed up kisses and more intimate moments when she was up and going again.
This year you watched and waited for updates on one certain bear, the tag a numerical call of your initials, 'XXX' being the bear you voted for everytime and eagerly waited to see, beaming to yourself as you see your girlfriend gets to the finals snapping a screenshot and saving it as your phone background.
God you can't wait to see her when she's done hibernating!
being so staunchly anti generative ai while everyone around you is "i used chatgpt" and "i asked grok" and google search is useless and every company is implementing ai and every single celeb is taking ai money and partnering with ai is like... it's so jarring. why can't you see the harm like i can? why are you so lazy? why are we making society this stupid? can we please stop? it's killing people does that not matter to you?
Synopsis: What happens when your bunny adoption goes terribly wrong and instead of offering a cute cuddly pet a home, you get stuck with not one, but two bunnies both with their each set of problems, chaos insures.
Pairings: !bunny-hybrid!Sylus x Y/n x !bunny-hybrid!Xavier
Content warnings : AU, NSFW, angst, bunny hybrids, slow burn, power imbalance, discrimination, reference to hybrid torture, reference to trauma and sexual abuse, non consensual touching, scenting, marking, pheromones, somnophilia, handjob, cunnilingus, overstimulation , forced multiple orgasms, deepthroating, p in v, ruts, knotting, alpha and omega dynamics, breeding kink,
FUCK ICE, free palestine, free congo, FUCK trump, FUCK musk, no one is illegal on stolen land, and if u disagree, FUCK YOU TOO!!!
i’ve said this before but if u support that fuckass orange in office, idc if ur a silent follower or ur like is ur only form of interacting with me, just know, i don’t want it!!! and u are a terrible person!!! 😛
(cw: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, kidnapping, yandere, stockholm syndrome vibes, afab fem reader)
maybe it’s because i’m mentally unwell but i can’t stop thinking about kidnapper!141 just wanting to take care of their precious darling n keep her safe! they know how cruel the world is out there, so you have to understand why they’d take you away. you’re too precious, too sweet and innocent for others to taint.
and you’ve gotta believe them when they say they only want to spoil and love you. if you don’t, they’re gonna have to prove it. and by prove it, they mean giving you as many orgasms as you want without having to lift a finger. for a month, they neglect their own leaking erections in favor of drowning you in pleasure and sweet nothings. at first, it was jarring, an unwanted assault on your body, but with time, you’ve come to heed their soft words.
it’s hard not to believe kyle when he says, “you’re so precious, beautiful. so, so, precious,” all the while holding your face so tenderly and pistoning his fingers into your tight hole.
it’s hard not to accept johnny when he moans like a whore as he sucks bruised constellations into your neck, only coming up to grunt into your ear: “all for you, babygirl. you deserve to be treasured. let us treasure you, yeah?”
it’s hard not to yearn for simon when he smacks on your clit, sucking like there’s no tomorrow. normally a man of few words, he can’t help but groan at the taste of you and let you know that you’re his. “we’ll keep to safe, sweet’eart. don’t fight it, just let us keep you.”
it’s hard not to bend to john’s will when he kneads your breasts, eyes looking at you with such fondness that it overwhelms you. “we’ll protect you, love. give you anything you could ever ask for. you’re our princess, and we’re your knights. no one will hurt you when you’re with us.”
it’s been a month. a month of resisting, of cognitive dissonance, of confusion. but a month is all it takes for you to cry out, “please!”
everything stops, all eyes on you. “please what, angel?” kyle asks, running his thumb under your chin.
you whine as the shame hits you. is this what you really want? to give in to four strange, scary men who abducted you and keep you tied to a bed in their basement? after weeks and weeks of this torture—this awful, euphoric torture—you cave.
“i…i’m tired. i’ll…be yours… i—mmph!”
john cuts you off with his lips. they press to yours like a warm embrace. you know the man is desperate to consume you like the rabid beast he is, yet he holds back, delicately moving his mouth against yours as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. that you’ll change your mind if he pushes a little too much. when he pulls back, his eyes shine with hope.
“you sure, love? are you ready to be ours?”
a tear of frustration streaks down your face. you wish they’d be meaner and give you a reason to be mad. you wanted to hit and scream, shake and kick at them. at least then you’d feel better for wanting them to hold you like you’re their only reason for existence. maybe you are. sure enough, they don’t take their own pleasure when a soft “yes” leaves your lips. instead, they resume their precious ministrations with a newfound fervor. kyle thrusts his fingers back into your gooey warmth, curling them upward to hit that sensitive little spot while littering kissing your left ear. johnny slobbers on the right side of your neck, biting and gnawing like a dog who’s been given a new chew toy. simon holds your legs wide open and devours your clit, lapping up any and all of your love juices kyle flings his way. and john—the leader, the one who decided they would take you in the first place—squeezes your breasts tenderly and gives you his love in the form of a kiss.
“that’s it, love,” he coos, “we knew you’d come around.”
Girlie I would do anything for massage therapist!Simon and chronic pain reader. I have been begging countless writers on here to do a x chronic illness/pain!reader and no one will do it 😭😭 I got chronic pain I just wanna feel included.
But in all seriousness I’m hella excited for it!!
hands that mend (massage therapist!simon riley x chronic pain-having!reader)
cw: afab reader, fem reader, light angst, fluff, reader is a little uneasy around male massage therapists, p in v, brëedińg kínk, massages in non-sëxuâl and sëxuâl contexts, n!sfw
word count: 4.9k
this is very important to me as someone who suffers from chronic pain. this took so long because of finishing the semester, being in the process of moving, and completely losing my sex drive, but i tried my best to push through. please lmk if i made any spelling errors, and thank you all for your patience! and thank you for 300 followers!
not proofread.
"i'm sorry, ramona had an emergency a moment ago and had to step out," the lady at the front desk said apologetically.
the all-encompassing dread began to fill your chest, then expanding into every orifice of your body that ached. these appointments weren't for leisure; they were a necessity, a lifeline that so many took for granted. you were no massage junkie, rather a victim of cramps and spasms, of stabbing and gnawing sensations that never seemed to go away no matter how hard you tried or what medication you forced down. the biweekly appointments were a brief respite from this agony, yet today, it seemed like the pain would have to fester for another two.
as if seeing the dread encompass your features, she added, "but i have another therapist available right now if you'd like! he's a man, though. is that okay?"
relief. god, what a relief. while you typically avoided male massage therapists (out of awkwardness and discomfort at the thought), desperate times call for desperate measures.
"that's fine with me," you replied, a little too eager. "thank you so much."
"of course, dear! I know how much this means to people." her words were comforting, like a sage grandmother who snuck her grandchild an extra piece of cellophane candy.
"let me just go back and get him—oh!" she leaned across the desk to whisper. "you should know that he wears a ski mask. i promise he's a good man and will treat you with care. he's just a little shy about his face is all."
you blinked before nodding. it's not every day you see a person with a ski mask. it intimidated you a little bit, but her words were comforting, to say the least, that this guy wouldn't hurt you. meanwhile, the lady disappeared into the back to fetch him. after waiting a painful minute, she returned with a giant of a man. "this is simon. he'll get those knots worked right out, hun."
sure enough, his face was obscured by a black balaclava. the skin surrounding his piercing blue eyes was darkened; he was the very definition of intimidating. he gave a nod, gesturing for you to follow. gulping, you obliged. together, you navigated the maze of rooms you're all too familiar with before arriving at his.
each massage therapist has their own aesthetic. some prefer a spa-like minimalism, others favor a spiritual maximalism. simon's, however, had a distinct flair. the room was dark, save for the warmth of a dim lamp in the corner. the wooden base was an elongated oval with an indentation for something to go there.
noticing your gaze, he asked in a voice gravelly and low: "is there a scent you prefer?"
"uhh," you thought, "eucalyptus?"
moving to a matching wooden cabinet, he opened the doors to reveal candles of all shapes and sizes. meaty hands plucked a large one from the shelves and placed it under the lamp—a candle warmer. how endearing.
the rest of the room matched the coziness of the lamp. posters of relaxing imagery, such as stars and oceans, filled the walls. there was a green velvet chair opposite the cabinet, and next to it was a wooden shelving unit littered with various essential oils and lotions. and of course, a massage therapist's room wouldn't be complete without the clock. the haunting reminder that what happens in this room can't last forever.
"so," he began, eyes staring into your soul, "what're we working on today?"
you listed off the various problem areas on your body as if you'd done it hundreds of times before—and you had. when he asked about pressure, you quickly told him hard. (none of that pussy shit was left unsaid.) hard pressure could be painful, sure, but it was the only way to alleviate the pain. you weren't paying good money for a light caress, that's for sure.
and so went the usual spiel: i'll leave you to undress; i'll be back in a bit; undress to your comfort level; i'll have you be face-down on the table. he then left you alone to decide exactly how comfortable you were with being so open with a male massage therapist. decidedly not as you kept your lightweight bra along with your comfy shorts. it wasn't as comfortable as being in nothing but your underwear, but it would do for now. you slid under the covers and rested your head against the face pillow.
after another minute, he entered his domain softly. the faint hum of spa music filtered in from one corner, and the gushing of an oil bottle flitted from another. slick hands met your shoulders, pressing in harshly against the stubborn muscle. you bit your lip to numb the pain. it was a kind of pain that an able-bodied person wouldn't understand, one so relieving that you could cry. a brand of affliction that brought about distinct euphoria. some hands weren't capable of bringing about this solace, too unskilled in anatomy or afraid of applying hard pressure—even your current therapist was decent at best. But this man in the balaclava was taking your body to heaven.
“is this a good pressure?” his gravelly voice murmured.
“a little harder is fine,” you responded, fiddling with your hands underneath the table. most in his profession don’t bother to ask such a simple question, yet he did. it made you feel taken care of. “and you can go under my bra if you need to.”
slowly, you were lulled into that lucid state of relaxation as he went to work on the knots and aches. your mind was able to rest knowing your body was in good hands, and before you knew it, he was pulling the blanket over your body and raising it high—time to roll over.
you contorted your body awkwardly to plant your back against the cushions and scooted down. once you gave him the go-ahead, he rested the blanket back down over your chest and moved the massage bolster under your knees. eucalyptus shot through your senses; a content sigh made it past your lips. “you’re really good at this.”
his fingers dug into your neck. “thank you.”
maybe it was due to your head being freed, maybe it was how your body felt better in ways it never had before, but you suddenly wanted to talk. “how long have you been doing this for?”
“about five years now.”
“wow, what got you into massage therapy?”
“used to be in the military. i got medically discharged after a bad mission, ‘n’ I guess wantin’ to fix the pain made me interested.” while he spoke of his tale, his touch grew lighter, more delicate, as he massaged your upper neck where your hair began.
“oh, i’m sorry to hear that.”
“don’t be.” the pressure returned again as his fingers pressed down the slopes of your neck to your shoulders. “i like helping people.”
a smile graced your lips. “that’s nice to hear.”
after a beat of silence, you assumed the conversation was over, but simon spoke once more. “so, normally i have my patients’ files, so i know what all’s happened to them, but since this was last minute, i don’t know about you. why don’t you tell me?”
a slight heat rose to your cheeks. absurd, yes, but they heated nonetheless. “oh, well…” you told him your story. when the pain started, what caused it, how it affected your day-to-day life, what all you’ve tried to fix it. how massage therapy was your final hope for ailment, and without it, you didn’t know what you’d do. while you talked, he gave you small hums and grunts.
“i’m sorry you’ve had to go through that.” simon sounded genuine, and you knew he was. only someone with similar pain could understand. you may have not been a soldier like he was, but chronic pain was like fighting a never ending battle that most dismiss as complaints. try a little harder. it can’t be that bad. you’re too young to be this lazy. but simon understood, and that’s all that matters.
the two of you talked a bit more here and there, lulled by the therapeutic scent and the calm music until he pulled his hands away. “‘m sorry to say that it’s been an hour.”
you had half a mind to whine like a child; nevertheless, you resigned yourself to a sad sigh. “thank you so much, simon. you were amazing.”
“hey, any time. i’d love to have you back.”
opening your eyes to look up at him, you smile. he’s staring down at you with crinkly blue eyes, and you can tell he’s smiling back. after he'd left you and you made yourself presentable, you walked to the front desk all warm and dazed. the lady grinned. "he's great, right?"
"he is," you agreed, pulling out your card to pay. when she turned around the card reader, your finger hovered over the tipping percentages. a beat. decidedly, it was the best you'd ever had. 20% ought to be kind enough. and with a tap of your card, the transaction was completed.
"alright, let me see when ramona is next available..."
"actually," you interceded, "i was wondering if i could schedule with simon again."
appointments with simon were monumental to your health. it was as if his hands were in sync with your body, completely aware of what it needed. there were some areas you yourself had no clue needed attention, and oh boy, did he give you attention. a prod here, a caress there. it was bliss. when you grew more comfortable, you decided to forgo shorts. they didn’t impact the quality of the massage, anyway. simon, ever the respectable man, made no comment and kept his skilled hands a comfortable distance from any ‘sensitive’ areas.
words couldn’t stop flowing from your lips. normally, you’d spend a minute or two on vapid smalltalk with your therapists before falling into comfortable silence, but with simon, it’s as if a ghost possessed you. you longed to hear his voice—it was almost as soothing as his hands. maybe it was due to his anonymity. the idea of a wanting to know more about a faceless man. regardless, you enjoyed his company. the conversations would always start small and rehearsed: how is your day, what areas hurt most, got anything going on lately? then, they crescendo, turning into words of informality: where’s the best place to get food around here, do you have any pets, what are your hobbies?
he likes this vietnamese place down the street; he has a doberman named ‘fish’ (a rescue—the name was not his choice, he claimed); he recently picked up gardening. learning about him shouldn’t have made you feel…warm. like your heart was filled with little butterflies. yet it did. something about this mysterious man with godlike hands and a respect for your body made you want more.
you realized your feelings when he worked on your legs one day. sheet flipped up to cover your rear while exposing the dense flesh of your legs, his rough hands worked through the kinks. he dragged his hands upward, reaching under your leg to grip your lower thigh, and he pressed up and around. it’s a simple technique, one done many times before. it wasn’t even that close to your crotch either… so why did heat pool in your panties? why did your face burn into the pillow with ferocity? was it fear? no, he wasn’t doing anything different from before; plus, the sheet shielded this spot from him completely. it was shame. you wanted those hands to wander. to use you and tend to your most sensitive areas. and you felt guilty. your thighs pressed together ever so slightly as he continued while you bit your lip, desperately trying to rid yourself of these dangerous thoughts.
but as time went on, they only increased. for a whole month, you fantasized about his large hands grabbing you, taking advantage of you, making you feel better inside and out. your bra came off—this time, simon said something when he came in.
“ah, are you comfortable with me, love?”
thank goodness your face was buried in the pillow because you looked as exposed as the rest of you. “y-yeah, i figured it would be easier. to work with, i mean.”
he didn’t move from the door. “hey, i don’t mind workin’ with it on.” his voice was soft, filled with a rare and genuine kindness that only complicated you more. “it’s your comfort, not mine.”
“no, it’s fine. i trust you.”
“that’s great to hear,” he murmured, shutting the door behind him softly. it almost sounded like he was smiling. you hoped he was. just as you hoped his now-lingering touches meant something. his fingers seemed to wander just out of bounds when roaming your sides or include the smallest bit more of your thighs. they also felt breezier than before—but perhaps it was all in your head. it would be wrong. so, so wrong.
so delectably wrong.
on a rainy tuesday evening, you entered the parlor expecting to see the welcoming eyes of the front desk lady. instead, simon leaned against the hallway’s frame, sipping water from the complimentary refreshments table. his head whipped to the sound, eyes crinkling when he recognized you. “hey, love, ‘m glad you m—hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
what he thought to be raindrops were tears running down your face, your eyes bloodshot. he laid the cup on the desk, walking to you with relaxed arms. not too outstretched, yet not closed off either—a test. whether you passed or failed didn’t matter, not when you desperately needed someone to hold you. you closed the distance, wrapping your arms around his torso. his hands found purchase against your back, one slithering up to press your head farther into his shirt. you sniffled, angry that his scent was indistinguishable in your clogged state.
once you felt decent to talk, you pulled back, apologizing.
“don’t be sorry,” he cooed, slowly removing his hands. “what’s got you so worked up?”
“it’s just…” you looked down, gesturing to your body, “…everything hurts. i don’t know what i did! i thought things were getting better, but it’s been so hard to move, i haven’t gotten any sleep the past few days, i can’t get things done at work, and—i just feel so useless!”
a cry left your lips as he held you again. “no, lovie, you’re not useless. don’t say such mean things about yourself.”
“my boss said i need to do better or get written up,” you bawled, clutching his shirt like a lifeline.
“your boss is ableist,” he glowered. “i’m no doctor, but i can get you a note. there’s no way i’d let someone treat you that way.”
you glanced up, wobbly gaze meeting his assertive one. “you mean it?”
he grunted. “always.”
all of a sudden, you realized how close you were to him. you peeled off of him, eyes trying to find a focal point anywhere but on him. “th-thank you, simon.”
an awkward silence filled the room until you remembered why you came in the first place. “o-oh, why are you the only one out here?”
“everyone went home. offered to close tonight due to the weather,” he replied, long legs striding to the water jug. he grabbed a small cup, filled it, and handed it to you. your cheeks felt hot as you thanked him.
“if i’m being honest, i could’ve closed an hour ago. but i knew you were coming.”
embarrassment flooded your senses. “you didn’t have to stay for me!”
“maybe i had a feeling you needed me today,” he offered.
“ever the charmer,” you teased back. the cool water hit your throat and you exhaled, though it came out as another sniffle.
he took it as sign to get a move on. “let me get you back there.”
simon led you to his room, perhaps even more of a refuge than normal. every muscle and bone in your body hated you. the pain poked and prodded wherever it could manage, lactic acid filling you like liquid agony. it was all to much to bear. he routinely went to his cupboard, picking out your favorite candle. you noticed he had multiple of the same kind, all in perfect condition.
“i have two hours ‘til close and no other patients. i’ll go as long as you want me to.”
“b-but—”
“no charge.”
“why?” you whispered, tears cascading down your cheeks.
once the candle was warmed, he walked to you, holding your face with his rough hands. “you deserve it.”
you scoffed. “i bet you’d do this for anyone. you’re sweet like that.”
long fingers swiped at the tears as he stared at you, eyes darkening. “only for you.”
you froze. you didn’t want to cross a line simon wasn’t willing to upend. lately, the two of you seemed to be dancing around something without a name. this unspoken, unfettered connection that drew you to each other—or so you wanted to believe. was it real, the charged looks and the lingering caresses?
simon’s eyes scanned your face; was he searching for a sign? as if he arrived at an answer, he pulled his hands away. maybe he thought your silence was rejection. before he could turn away, you grabbed his hand. he looked at you, stunned.
“is there anything else you would do just for me?” you tested. this was it. there’s no mistaking your intentions for casual banter now. not with the way your lips parted and thumb roams across his wrist. his eyes bulged out of his head just staring at it, and he fucking gulps.
it’s your turn to stew in the silence. it’s painful—almost as painful as your body. you couldn’t help but interrupt the moment with a pop to your neck, and his eyes darted back to yours. “get on the table.”
“but my clothes—”
“you won’t be the one to take them off this time.”
the tips of your ears burned at his words. you slipped off your shoes and sat in the center obediently. “i’ll be right back.”
in juxtaposition with his low voice came the harsh stride of his feet as he bounded across the building. a ‘click’ sounded, and he came right back, shutting the door. “no one’s bothering us tonight.”
he turned on the noise machine and stalked over to you. his eyes furrowed at your poor posture. “let’s get you comfortable, love. you’re in pain.”
“i want to be good for you,” you murmured, looking down at his hands. they took yours, raising them above your head.
“you don’t even have to try to be good for me,” he said. he let go of your hands to pull your shirt up, revealing your body to him. his breath hitched, hands feeling over the expanse of your waist. so smooth, unlike his battle-hardened paws.
“i never get to see you from the front like this,” he whispered, perhaps to himself rather than to you. reaching around, he deftly undid your bra, pulling back with it in tow to stare at your chest in awe. “fuck.”
your hands covered yourself in shame, but he was quick to hold them.
“don’t hide yourself.” his eyes stared into your soul, banishing any and all insecurity.
with another sniffle, you nodded, allowing him to rest your hands on his chest while he caressed them. you gasped. his eyes burned with intense devotion that evoked a moan from you.
“relax.” his lips captured yours, swallowing any noises you make. “i’d be a bad massage therapist if i didn’t take care of you everywhere, now would i?”
you bit your lip, nodding. his left hand slithered behind you, pressing you toward him as his mouth sucked on your chest. the right one fondled your left breast, squeezing and playing with the flesh as if it were in need of relief. he trailed kisses and love bites down the expanse of your right breast until they found purchase on your nipple, suckling and nipping with fervor.
“ah! simon!” you moaned, clinging to him. he growled, your noises spurring him to give you more pleasure. he rubbed down your back, pressing his fingers around your spine as he would on the table. he pushed down, not deep enough to fix the pain but light enough to ignite sparks where he touched. you shivered, tweaking your body in pleasure and discomfort. he pulled away, his trance broken.
“‘m sorry, i got carried away. let’s get you face-down, okay, love?”
you wanted to curse at him for leaving you so out of breath and disheveled, but you were glad to finally lie down. you got into position, chest down and hips angled slightly up. he chuckled, pushing down on your tailbone to force you flat. “i’ll give you what you want soon, eager girl, but i need to give you what you need first.”
it was exhilarating to not know where he’d touch first. you heard shuffling in the room. the gushing of oil into his palms. and then, the warm touch of his hands against your lower back. you keened. he laughed, digging in harshly. “i’m not even trying to be sexual. you’re worked up in more ways than one, aren’t you?”
“i’ve wanted this for so long,” you sighed. “wanted you for so long.”
“you better quit with those words, lovie. i need to help you first,” he warned. his hands moved to your shoulders, forcing his way past the tenseness of your muscles. “if you behave, i’ll take extra special care of you. okay?”
“okay,” you agreed. you sounded so pitiful, like the tears from before had turned into desperation. and they had. he worked on you like normal, abusing your flesh with pain rather than pleasure. despite the want bubbling up in your core, you were able to relax and enjoy your body giving in to his ministrations.
he took his time to melt away your suffering: starting on your shoulders for ten minutes, then moving to your neck for seven, then trailing to your sides (caressing a little too much of your boobs in the process) for five, and finally going to your legs.
“so tense in your calves, love,” he noted, lightly dragging his pointer fingers up them. you fidgeted at his touch, whining.
“now, now. you’ve been so well behaved, pretty girl. i’m almost done. lift your hips a bit for me.”
eager to please, you obliged, and he slid your shorts and panties off. hands glided up your calves and up the backs of your thighs, squeezing the bouncy flesh in their wake. then, he recreated his usual motions, pressing under the insides and pulling up. you bit your lip to suppress a whimper when cold air hit your pussy. his breath hitched from behind you.
“fuck, you’re already so wet,” he groaned, repeating the motion. “does this happen every time i do this? do you always drip for me like this?”
“nnh! just lately…”
“lately it’s been different, yeah? you been wanting your massage therapist to fuck you? to do things to you?” he spread your legs and mounted the table. those godlike hands went underneath your upper thighs, tickling your abdomen and pulling down to spread your lips farther. slick wetness trickled down onto the linens.
“p-please, simon!” you begged, raising your head to look back at him. he smirked. how could he resist your pleading eyes?
“easy, love,” he reaches one hand forward to ease you back down. “such a good girl. do you want a condom?”
“no!” you cried, angry at the thought of not feeling him spill his hot cum into you, claiming you from the inside out. protection be damned; you were on birth control, and you wanted that dick.
“alright, alright. stay down for me. i don’t want you to hurt your back.” even in the heat of it all, he was still ever the gentleman, guiding the massage bolster under your abdomen to raise your hips and keep you comfortable. slowly, he pushed two fingers in, smoothing around your tight walls.
“simon,” you whispered airily.
“that’s my good girl. just let me in.”
he scissored his fingers, stretching you out to accommodate his thick cock. then, he added a third. in, out. in, out. he made love to your pussy with just his long fingers, whispering the sweetest of nothings into your ear while doing so. finally, he pulled out, replacing his fingers with his tip at your entrance.
“are you ready, love?” he asked.
“yes, please,” you nodded.
with a chuckle, he pushed in. you both erupted into a fit of moans as he fucked you hard and deep. his hands gripped your hips as he thrusted, his thighs slapping against your ass with each pound. you cried out, digging your fingers into the table.
“yes, simon! fuck! harder!”
he grunted, pulling your ass closer to him and thrusting into that special spot that had you seeing stars.
“mmmh! right there,” you choked on your moans, eyes rolled into the back of your head. this man knew your body like the back of his hand, and now, he was making it shake with pleasure of a different kind. long gone were the meticulous presses of this thumbs into your spine or the digging of his elbows into your shoulders; this pleasure was raw, sexual, passionate. one that left you shivering and shaking, toes curling with each pound into your g-spot. his left hand slid down to rub at your swollen clit, and you arched your back, moaning.
“this good, baby?” he groaned, never slowing his hips.
“mmnngh! yessss… it’s perfect! don’t stop!”
“wasn’t plannin’ on it. ‘m not stoppin’ until i feel you cream on this cock and i fill you with my cum.”
you whined at his words.
“yeah, you like that?” he went faster— “like the idea of me fillin’ you up all nice and round with my seed? fuck, fillin’ your womb—ngh!—making you mine? you wanna be mine, yeah? tell me you’re mine, lovie, tell me you wanna be my good girl.”
“ahh, i’m yours! i wan-na be your good girl!” his thrusts enunciated each of your syllables as you cried your devotion.
“that’s it, lovie, you’re all mine. and i’m yours—” he leaned down to press kisses into your back.
the pleasure continued to build, that knot in your core growing and growing. “simon! i’m gonna…”
“go for it, lovie, give it to me.”
with one more harsh flick to your button, you came undone, coating his dick in your love juices while he continued to pummel your trembling cunt while muttering out sweet nothings. body collapsing into the table, you could only whine and keen as your vision grew hazy in the afterglow. it didn’t take much longer for him to follow, burying himself deep in your pussy as if it were meant to be there filling it to the brim. you sighed, smiling at the seemingly never ending flow of cum.
“fuccckkk,” he groaned, caressing your sides as he emptied his balls into you, “all for you, lovie, all for you.”
you breathed out a giggle, reaching behind to grasp at his hand. fingers interlocked, and he rubbed soothing circles into your flesh.
“you do this with your clients often?” you teased, though the bitter thought tugged at your heartstrings now that the moment was over. surely, this means you have to find a new massage therapist, right?
but before you could dwell too much in sadness, he pulled out to hunch over your body, putting his face next to yours. instead of the familiar skull-faced balaclava obscuring his face was a head of blond hair and a sharp face—he must’ve taken off in the heat of things. the only thing you recognized were those piercing blue eyes looking at you with overwhelming devotion.
“you’re the only one. no one else. never anyone else. i’d only want to see you like this.”
the breath you didn’t know you were holding left your mouth as you smiled. “i’m glad.”
his lips, all cracked and imperfect, formed a lopsided grin.
it couldn’t have been more perfect.
“lemme take you out sometime,” he said, helping the two of you upright.
“you mean it?” you asked shyly.
simon found your fingers again, gently squeezing in reassurance. “i don’t show my face to anyone, y’know? what, is it not what you expected?”
you leaned up on your knees to kiss him, cradling his face with your free hand.
“i expected a serial killer. unfortunately, i got a ruggedly handsome man, but i guess i can make do.”
simon rolled his eyes. “fucking minx.” he tugged you into his chest and pressed his lips to yours, arms tightly moulding you to him. you winced, keening. he let go immediately, worriedly scanning your body.
“did i hurt you?”
“it’s okay, just a little sore in the lower back.”
the clothes that were previously discarded made their way back onto his body in record time. “get back on there. we've got work to do."
"but simonnn," you whined, "i'm hungryyy."
"we'll get something after, but right now, 'm taking care of you." he guided you into position, delicately forcing your face into the pillow. "i knew i should've spent longer on your back before fucking you senseless."
"simon!"
dividers by @/cafekitsune
i hope everyone liked it. i rushed the ending bc i just wanted to get it out at this point. things have been hard lately and my writing motivation has plummeted along with my sex drive. thanks for the anorgasmia, too, cymbalta. i know it's not the best smút, but at least i finished it.
Simon Riley watching you as you put on your make up. Tw. Mentions of his mother's trauma.
...................
"Wha's tha for?"
Putting your brush on the palette, you apply your highlighter. Tilting your cheek to show off the colour.
"Highlights my face, Si. You use it where the light hits your face."
He nods, taking it in.
"What's the sparkly stuff I got you for your birthday?" He asks after a minute.
You pull out some of your make up, a soft smile on your face as you explain your steps, watching him take it all in,a mental note to replenish anything you are low on.
"It's a skill, love. An artist with all that shit." He gruffs, an almost proud smirk on his face.
"It's taken me a long time to figure out what I like. I won't even tell you about thin brows, dream matte mouse or foundation lips." You laugh.
He looks at you, brushing a hair out of your face.
"You are beautiful, you know?" He says softly.
"With all the make up, without it all, I love seeing you do your thing."
You smile, finishing off your face with setting spray, beaming at yourself in the mirror.
"Love you too Simon."
He smiles back and squeezes your hand.
What Simon doesn't tell you is for years he had to watch his mother use make up to cover up bruises and marks, so to watch you be creative and use make up for something positive heals him a little, even if he doesn't know what half the stuff does.
siren!john price x gn!reader; siren!141 x gn!reader
tw: suícǐdë attempt, depressed reader, price lowkey (high key) takes advantage of reader’s mental state, drowning, heavy angst w happy ending, yandere john price
dark content ahead! read at your own risk!
divider by @strangergraphics
when siren!john finds you, you’re sitting on a rock, a pathetic shell of a human being. there’s a knife in your hands, blade glinting in the pale moonlight as you tremble. he calls out to you with an intoxicating croon. you look so shaken, such a poor little thing. just gaze into his piercing blue eyes. come on, pretty one. put down the knife for him. there you go. sweet things like you shouldn’t carry dangerous objects.
he asks you what you were planning to do with it, and you tell him through a fit of tears how every thing is horrible. how lonely you are, how empty you feel, how nothing in this world is with living for.
he agrees; your world is cruel, too mean for a sensitive and good-natured creature like yourself. but under the sea, there’s so much waiting to love you. hold you, caress you, and never let you go. in the depths lies his pod full of sirens just as big and strong and loving as he, all eager to prove it to you. it can be yours, sweetling, just come into the water. john will make it all better. john will make the pain go away.
just come to the water.
that’s it. let him hold you, envelope you in his scaly embrace. isn’t this nice?
now, you’ll have to be a good human and trust him. if you want to join him under the surface, he’ll have to take away your humanity. you do trust him, right?
it’ll all be over soon. just let the water fill your lungs as he sings you to sleep, a soft lullaby to celebrate the end of one life and the birth of a new one. yes, sweet thing. that’s it. succumb to the ocean. to him.
he’s all you’ll ever need.
no more pain of the human world.
and when you wake up, you’ll be like him, a beautiful creature of the water with a gorgeous tail. you’ll see life through his eyes, and you’ll never hurt again.
siren!john price x gn!reader; siren!141 x gn!reader
tw: suícǐdë attempt, depressed reader, price lowkey (high key) takes advantage of reader’s mental state, drowning, heavy angst w happy ending, yandere john price
dark content ahead! read at your own risk!
divider by @strangergraphics
when siren!john finds you, you’re sitting on a rock, a pathetic shell of a human being. there’s a knife in your hands, blade glinting in the pale moonlight as you tremble. he calls out to you with an intoxicating croon. you look so shaken, such a poor little thing. just gaze into his piercing blue eyes. come on, pretty one. put down the knife for him. there you go. sweet things like you shouldn’t carry dangerous objects.
he asks you what you were planning to do with it, and you tell him through a fit of tears how every thing is horrible. how lonely you are, how empty you feel, how nothing in this world is with living for.
he agrees; your world is cruel, too mean for a sensitive and good-natured creature like yourself. but under the sea, there’s so much waiting to love you. hold you, caress you, and never let you go. in the depths lies his pod full of sirens just as big and strong and loving as he, all eager to prove it to you. it can be yours, sweetling, just come into the water. john will make it all better. john will make the pain go away.
just come to the water.
that’s it. let him hold you, envelope you in his scaly embrace. isn’t this nice?
now, you’ll have to be a good human and trust him. if you want to join him under the surface, he’ll have to take away your humanity. you do trust him, right?
it’ll all be over soon. just let the water fill your lungs as he sings you to sleep, a soft lullaby to celebrate the end of one life and the birth of a new one. yes, sweet thing. that’s it. succumb to the ocean. to him.
he’s all you’ll ever need.
no more pain of the human world.
and when you wake up, you’ll be like him, a beautiful creature of the water with a gorgeous tail. you’ll see life through his eyes, and you’ll never hurt again.
wandering into a cave to seek shelter from the storm only to come across a slumbering dragon!price. he’s massive with radiant golden scales. you freeze, adrenaline shooting through your chest and piercing your ears. you slowly back away, trying not to wake the beast, when your back crashes into a thick wall of flesh. you look up to see another dragon!gaz blocking your exit.
“hmm, what do we have here?”
you face him, stepping backwards to make some distance. gaz isn’t as large as price, but his red scales still intimidate you to no end.
“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t know this cave was occupied. i was just cold and needed a place to hide! i-i can leave and never come back!”
a grumbling resounds from behind you. it shakes the ground you stand on, making you shake from more than just the frigidness. a third dragon!soap appears, picking you up in claws and bringing you to his piercing yellow eyes and green-scaled maw. “poor li’l sapphire. didnae know this was a dragon’s nest?”
you curl in on yourself. “n-no! i swear! please don’t eat me! i promise i meant no harm!”
gaz laughs, stomping forward to look at you closer. his maw is so close—just one sharp exhale, and you’d be a pile of ash. “trinket, we won’t hurt you. you’re too cute to eat.”
“ye. we only want tae play with you a bit,” soap adds, using his other paw to ‘gently’ pat your head. it jolts your whole body.
you sniffle. “what do you mean?”
“mating season.” from the darkness, a fourth dragon!ghost appears. he’s taller than the two, all black scales and authority. you gasp, eyes widening.
“si!” soap scolds.
at the same time, gaz says, “don’t scare her even more than she already is!”
the former huffs. “why waste time when we can get to the point?”
gaz pulls away slightly to give you space, but his gaze still holds yours with intensity. “look, trinket. we dragons mate in autumn, and you caught us at the right time. if you help us, we’ll reward you handsomely.”
“john has quite the hoard,” soap continues, “and he’d be willing to give ye whatever ye need to live comfortably for the rest of your life.”
“all we ask is that you let us breed you,” gaz finishes.
you gulp, the adrenaline now pooling somewhere else. somewhere wet and hot. the idea of four dragons fucking you makes you keen, thighs pressing together unconsciously.
“but how would this work?” you ask, looking over at ghost’s underbelly. from a slit on his abdomen, you can see two large cocks starting to poke out, and from the heads alone, they each look just as big as you.
the three chuckle, and soon a fourth voice joins in on the laugh. price finally makes a move, standing up and walking over to fully cage you in soap’s palm.
“oh, treasure,” he rumbles amusedly, “dragons can shapeshift. we wouldn’t want to break you, would we, boys?”
the three grunt in response.
you feel awed by their power, and when you don’t respond, price barks out an order. “kyle. simon. johnny. show my treasure what i mean.”
soap places you back on the rocky floor. suddenly, the sound of cracking and contorting echoes through the cave. and before you know it, three massive humanlike men stand before you. sharp horns protrude from their heads, human flesh surrounds random patched of scales, and their backs sport gigantic wings and a tail. most importantly, however, they are naked and proudly presenting two scaly cocks between their legs, tips weeping with seed.
in that moment, any doubts or reasoning went out the window. drool ran past your lips, and your tongue quickly followed to lap it up.
soap laughed, crouching in front of you to caress your face. “li’l sapphire likes what she sees.”
“does that mean we can ‘ave ‘er?” ghost grumbled, claws moving to fist his aching cocks.
gaz sneaks behind you and whispers in your ear, “it’s up to her.”
you take them in, lustful eyes raking over their faces, their bodies, their everything, desperate to find out what pleasure they’ll give you. craning your neck up to where price still towers over you all as a dragon, you call, “can i see you, too?”
a contented sound leaves price’s throat as he shifts into a burly man just as aching as his pack mates. he stalks to you, those eyes still gleaming like the apex predator he very much is, and he turns you to face him. “well? are you pleased with your mates?”
you nod.
the four of them purr, finally putting their hands on you.
“good treasure. now just sit there and look pretty for us. we’ll take good care of you.”
writing smút is hard >_< maybe i’ll continue this one day but for now enjoy dragons bc they hot asf
i vaguely like phasmophobia and a streamer i follow started playing it again, so it got me thinking about ghosts!141 and ghost hunter!reader.
soap as a poltergeist and purposely trying to scare you by throwing shit everywhere
gaz as a mare who likes to fight with you over the light switches
ghost (hehe) as a phantom bc he hates getting his picture taken :(
price as a demon, the most powerful “ghost” of all, who could kill you if he really wanted to, but his ghost friends have taken a liking to you, so he lets them have their fun. and hey, maybe he also starts taking a liking to the cute ghost hunter trying to send them to the afterlife
i’m almost done with the massage therapist simon fic. i’m currently at the smút portion, i’m just really awkward at writing it and feel too doubtful to finish it rn. i don’t want to lose my creative spark with writing, though, so i’m going to try and post some short blurbs to get me back in the mindset of things!
it actually wasn’t you who brought up the idea. no, it was the ever curious scot who thought aloud on your lunch date.
“y’know, bonnie, you should do my makeup sometime.”
you blinked. “eh?”
“what, you don’t think i could pull it off?” that sly grin appeared on his face.
“no, i just didn’t expect you to be interested.” heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of him taking interest in your eccentric fashion choices.
“why wouldn’t i?!” his eyes puddled in that puppy dog way he always did when he tried to pull at your heartstrings; of course, it worked. rolling your eyes, you smile at his antics.
“then i’ll make you look like the coolest guy around.”
“i’m ‘ome!” simon called out, stepping into the safety of your cozy abode. a faint response was heard from the master bedroom upstairs, and he shrugged off his boots to see what his little lovebirds were up to. to his surprise, the bed was littered in various products and trinkets, the likes of which simon couldn’t even begin to name. in the center of them were you and johnny. your hands cradled his face as you tugged a black pen-like object across his eyes. simon couldn’t help but snicker at johnny’s pleased expression.
“hey, simon.” you acknowledged, not tearing your eyes away from your project. johnny went to speak, but your spare hand shot up to clasp his lips together. “you talk too animated.”
“our doll is turning you into one, too, eh?” simon asked, electing to sit behind you on the bed. once you finished a pass with the pen, he rested his head on your shoulder.
“he wanted to look pretty,” you cooed, sparing him a kiss to his covered forehead. the giant practically purred, removing his balaclava and nuzzling into your neck.
“that he does, doll.”
your hands continue to paint johnny, turning him into an edgy version of himself that makes you smile.
“honestly…?” you look to simon, who nods in agreement, “you could rock this all the time, baby.”
johnny’s smile reaches his ears as he bounds off to the bathroom, metaphorical tail wagging wildly. “ooo, yes! i could get used to this, bon. i love the little heart you put under me eye!”
all of your boyfriends loved and adored your style and subculture, but johnny was always your biggest cheerleader. he never made you feel different for your interests, always praised them and bought you whatever dark and broody thing you wanted. it’s not to say the others didn’t as well, but johnny just understood you on a level that made your heart simmer with love.
“‘ey.” simon butted your neck. you smiled in understanding. pay attention to me. “make me look pretty, too.”
there was something so endearing about big, mean simon, the boogeyman, the silent assassin, unraveling in your presence to become a whiny, desperate man in need of your affection and praise. he could break you in half at a moment’s notice, and yet here he is, all docile and pathetic on your shoulder.
“oh, simon,” you sighed, pulling away from him. “how can i refuse?”
the next victim to arrive was kyle, who couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of johnny parading around in your jewelry and simon sitting obediently while you drew your eyeliner around his eyes (he grew up with sisters; he knew what those ‘trinkets’ were). “don’t we look braw, kyle?”
“pfft, you look like you’re going to see bring me the horizon,” kyle chuckled.
“that’s what i was going for,” you mutter, transfixed by your new canvas. you and simon opted for a tradgoth style that resembled his skeletal mask. his face was painted ghost white, save for the black lines framing his new ‘skeleton’.
“you should let ‘er do you next,” johnny offered, sauntering over to the taller man to sling a spiked arm around his shoulder. black lips pressed to his cheek and left behind a lip print.
“oh, hell! it’s so sticky!” kyle grumbled, rubbing the spot with his now-stained fingers.
“johnny, i told you to quit licking your lips,” you admonished, finishing up simon’s left eye.
“it’s jus’ too weird, bon! it’s like jam on your lips.”
kyle went to the bed and plucked the tube of liquid lipstick. maleficent, the bottom label read. how apt. he twisted the cap and pursed his lips, applying the lipstick with the doe foot applicator. smacking his lips, he scoffed. “it’s not that bad, johnny.”
upon turning around, the latter began laughing, shaking his head. “go look at yourself, dafty.”
“what?” kyle furrowed his brow, walking into the bathroom. his lips were black, yes, but so was the skin surrounding them. and his philtrum. and somehow the tip of his chin?
“fuck me.”
“i hope this is easy to remove, bon, ‘cause it’s all over ‘im.”
“kyle!” you snapped, looking at his painted face. as loathe he was to admit it, he was just as ornery as johnny. you chuffed, shaking your head. “i’ll fix you in a moment. let me finish with si first.”
though he was sheepish, kyle was glad you’d be playing with him next. the two watched as you painted simon with grace, biting your lip in intense focus. the little details you put into making him look awesome, albeit for a silly little moment, made them swell with pride. they couldn’t have chosen a better partner. one so attentive to give them each a little piece of your beauty on their skins. with one last stroke (and a small black heart), simon’s was completed. he admired it in the mirror, nodding in approval. if he liked the heart, he didn’t say so (he absolutely did).
“now, let’s fix your lips, handsome.” kyle gushed at the pet name and took simon’s old place on the bed. dipping a q-tip in makeup remover, you rubbed at his face with determined fervor.
“can’t you go a little softer, luvie?”
“no can do. shit’s long lasting.”
thankfully, it was over quickly, but your eyes caught his and glossed over. it was time for the ‘johnny’ look. “can i give you some eyeshadow?”
while kyle was an expert on johnny denial, he couldn’t say the same for you. with a sigh, he nodded, smiling. “go for it. but i better look amazing, yeah?”
you bounced with glee. taking a square brush to his face, you packed on black pigment and used a second brush to feather it out. simple, yet effective. “all done,” you beamed.
the mirror showed kyle a look he’d never wear in any other context than for your pure enjoyment. judging by your happy expressions (and compliments of how sexy he looked), he might have to wear it again for you.
as if in cue, the final piece to your heart waltzed into the room, a deep laugh filling the air at the sight of his lovers. “what’re you all doing? playin’ dress up?”
“oh, i can get you all outfits, too,” you thought aloud, delighted by the idea john put into your head. “you all would look so good with spiked chokers.”
“don’t we look great, cap?” johnny smiled.
“our princess is quite the artist,” john agreed, stalking over to you and kissing your lips. “so talented.”
“would you want to join in?” you asked. you figured he wouldn’t care about makeup, and he probably didn’t, but just like the others, he got so soft for you.
“i’d love nothing more.”
yes i just made up the head canon that gaz has sisters just so he could know what eyeliner is, what of it?
i’m in a bit of a depressive episode, so here’s a list of things i would love to write about in regards to tf141 (and if anyone is like YES PLEASE WRITE THIS NOW i will try my damndest lol).
- naga 141 where kyle and johnny find you, hypnotize you, and bring you back to their den
- dragon 141 x princess reader
- massage therapist simon with fem afab reader with chronic pain 🥺 this one is v self-indulgent—
- pirates 141 are obsessed with mermaid fem reader
- siren john wants to add depressed gn reader to his pod (completed!)
- mermen 141 and human fem afab reader meet and…😏
- werewolf pack 141 x vampire gn reader
- there’s a story i wrote here that i kinda wanna turn into 141
- werewolf john takes you, a newly-turned pup, in
- 141 sharing you
- goth reader shenanigans
- doing 141’s makeup (completed!)
- 141 thirsting
- reader dressing them up for a goth club
- 141 being dóms (both sf!w and n.sf!w)
- reminding you to take care of yourself
- no negative self talk 😡
- anything omegaverse
just a grocery list of thoughts. i might try to crank one out, no guarantees that it’ll be good 😭 if you take one of these, please tag me! i wanna see!!
