the thought of waking up at night to feel pressure on my cunny just to see my legs spread out, my shorts tore up but see no one is so hot.
i'd wonder what's going on, still half asleep, thinking it's a dream but then deep and rough thrusts wake me up. i'd try to grasp at the hands, try to push away whatever was apparently raping me but i wouldn't be able to cuz i can't see or touch the ghost that saw me and decided to ravish me.
the only thing that'd tell me that i'm not insane will be the remains of the ghost, dripping down my thighs once it's done with me.
Thinking about being stuck between Dadbf Simon and John during a movie. It’s very comfy being squished between the two.
cw: 18+ mdni, fauxcest, smut.
Simon playing with your pussy under the blanket, pads of his fingers keep flicking and rolling your misused clit over and over. You’re pressed up against John, his beefy hairy arm inbetween your tits as you hold onto his arm, bottom lip trembling as if he’d help you in this predicament you’re in. But he only takes a swing of his beer, “Play with your Dad alright, gotta be quiet, ‘M watchin the movie.”
You only let out a little whimper, the dialogue of the movie in your ear, along with your messy heat squelching everytime Simon slots a finger in your cunt so casually. His brown eyes flicker from you to the movie, scar on his face twitching with the growing smirk, your hips grinding into Simons hand that’s running through your glossy folds. Simons sucks his finger clean, dipping it back in your pretty hole with another digit, ragged voice hushed in your ear “You’d be bloody terrible at the theater swee’art, so fuckin loud.”
John is considerate though, very considerate! Giving you long, sloppy kisses that help you reach your climax easily after god knows how long of being edged during commercial break. Sucking your tongue as you claw down his arm, cumming again on Simons hand. You only fumble forward trying to keep yourself still, your face in John’s lap, face to face with the chubbing hard on in his jeans.
His pushes your curls back, rubbing your nape, “Give your Daddy a treat f’ interupptin my movie, yeah honey?”
And your face is all messy and fucked by the end of the movie, choking and on your full lips. Your own cum staining the couch John will clean up. Simon will coo, patting his knee for you to slide over because, ‘’S long past yer bed time swee’art.’
The brute of a man will smear John cum across your lips before slipping it into your mouth to suck on, sliding his wet fat cock into your snug cunt inch by inch, that Prince Albert piercing just right against your soaking walls. Simon will slow fuck up into you, one rough hand gripping your waist and holding you against his chest while grinding you down on his length, your choking uo sleepy moans, incoherent mumbles as Simon croons, “Gonna cum ‘nd then sleep baby, ‘s alright, Dad’s got you.”
John will zip himself up, kiss the top of your head, running fingers through Simons hair on the way to get you some new pajamas.
Simons aiming to make a mess of you tonight.
a/n: they’re running my mind rn. Like woah I actually do have plot for them. My fault y’all.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Disgustingly loving sex (sorry). Soft dom!Simon Talks You Through It™️ Creampie. Brief mention of Reader’s insecurities w sex
Note: I’m on Instagram now (kinda), come say hi :-)
Word count: 2.1k
It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried before.
You’d had your fair share of lovers and experienced more than a good deal of fun. With everyone in the past, climax came the same way, every single time: clitoral stimulation, and clitoral stimulation alone.
By this point in your life, you suspected your g-spot was probably just a figment of your imagination, no more real than Atlantis, Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
That was, until, you met your boyfriend, Simon.
And things had only been official for a week.
You and him had fooled around a handful of times—made love, as he called it, and kissed and cuddled and occasionally dry-humped until the two of you were both panting, groaning messes—but all of this was new. Simon was still learning you, as you were him.
He finished between your tits. You came on his tongue. He fingered you to the point of tears, and you learned how to touch his sac just right to get him to blow his load in seconds. On this night in particular, you were fucking missionary, and holding hands while you did.
Lovesick puppies, Price would say. Neither one of you seemed able to unglue your lips or unlace your fingers or keep your hips from colliding again and again and again in frantic search of the other’s furthest depths. You were perfectly wrapped up, with no desire to move
Except, you needed to reach down between your bodies to actually get off. That was a minor detail.
You didn’t think the man above you would mind if you moved your touch from his, but then that grip tightened the second you tried pulling away.
“Keep it there, lovie. Like holding you like this,” he said.
You enjoyed it, too. It was intimate, and sweet, and with your hands pinned on either side of you, locked securely in his, you felt safe. You just couldn’t finish.
“But I…I need to come,” you whispered against him. You rolled your hips and felt his cock twitch inside you.
Simon grunted, then swallowed. Nodded slowly.
“Yeah. I’ll get you there. Feel this?”
He slid deeper for emphasis.
You didn’t.
You rarely did, or at least not in the way you figured you were supposed to get when something pressed there.
“I think…sort of, yeah,” you hedged your answer.
Don’t bruise his ego, don’t hurt his feelings.
This is all on me, Si, I promise it’s not you.
Cutting in over your thoughts, Simon moved swiftly. Took your hips in his big, strong hands, lifted up, and plunged his cock to the hilt. The girth of him was enough to knock the air out of your lungs, and you felt your walls stretch, sting, and weep sweet liquid warmth around that intrusion. You moaned.
“Better?” The man’s question was simple.
Before you could answer it, he was sliding a pillow underneath your backside. Sawing his long, thick, leaking cock in and out of you, he reached a new spot.
You made a face, feeling good from that but…strange.
Simon snatched your hands up again and planted them beside your head on the mattress. He thrusted steadily. He peppered kisses all over your face and your neck while the bed frame squeaked in time, and you had to dig your heels into his ass to ground yourself.
“Talk to me, baby. Can’t make it better if you don’t.”
“I—I know, I just can’t—”
At the same time, Simon tilted your hips slightly once more, and the tip of his cock kissed something soft and wet and dizzyingly pleasurable inside your body. A loud, embarrassing cry slipped out between your lips.
You wanted to clap a hand over your mouth, hating the way you’d just sounded, but your fingers were stuck to his. Simon grinned down at you, toothy and approving.
“Can’t do what, now, darlin’?”
The warm, bulbous head of his cock had found its mark, and he just kept prodding that spot, like it entertained him to do it. The fingers laced between your own constricted their grip even more, and Simon leaned down to kiss you while his cock carved a mind-numbing path. In between kisses, he praised you.
“That’s my girl. She’s likin’ it now, isn’t she?”
“Feel good when my cock hits that spot?”
“Your pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby.”
But still, somehow, it just wasn’t quite enough.
Maybe you’d never found that place after all.
This was where most men gave up—after a few good minutes of fucking when their balls had gotten to be as swollen as stones and their bodies were aching for release, more often than not, they’d go off chasing their own high. That was when you usually started rubbing your clit, or waited for your partner to finish so they could get you off with their tongue or something.
You hated to feel like a burden, and you really despised the thought of being the reason your sweet Simon couldn’t get to orgasm. So you squirmed again.
Straining to reach down, to try and touch yourself, you whimpered, “Si, please, it just—it takes me too long—”
“Good thing we’ve got all night,” Simon replied bluntly.
Then, once again, he twisted your bodies like you were as soft and malleable as putty in his hands, and this time, he hitched one of your legs around his hip, high.
With one slow-rolling thrust and an audibly squelching sound, Simon’s cock stretched your hole to maximum capacity, and then a little more. Your juices leaked down his shaft, aiding the slide, and he stabbed in a few shallow strokes. Probing. Testing the waters, as if he were trying to find something hidden inside you.
You sucked in a breath. Simon’s gaze slid to yours.
“Let’s find that precious spot, lovie. Easy, now.”
Gently coaxing your body open, he drove a slow, measured pace. He split your cunt like it was the easiest thing in the world, delving within your wet, velvety heat to tease every contour and crevice of your pussy. His tip leaked precome. His balls glistened in your arousal and landed with the gentlest plap, plap, plaps while he explored your insides with his member.
It really was as simple as that, nothing more and nothing less than poking around. Having patience.
“S-Si,” you stammered, nose wrinkling slightly.
“What’s’at, baby? Got something to tell me?”
Like a teacher, almost, he pressed for more.
Like his cock was showing you something new about your body but he needed your help to tell him just how and where to find it, Simon took care to be kind. He smoothed a hand over the crown of your head and then cradled the back of it, one massive set of fingers splayed out against your skull and engulfing it wholly.
He still held onto your other hand tight.
Your cunt pulsed. Ached. Fluttered around him.
Stuffed to the brim, you had only to feel, and murmur:
“Higher.”
“Higher?”
“Um, to the…to the left.”
Simon tilted his hips left.
Yes.
That was just it. So close.
Almost…
Or, maybe…
“Maybe it just…isn’t there,” you huffed out, deflating. “Know you’re trying so hard, baby, but I think I can’t—”
Then Simon hit the same spot as before, only higher.
Just like you’d told him: to the left, and then…
“Oh, fuck,” you cursed. “Oh, fuckfuckfuck.”
The grin above you stretched even wider.
“There, lovie?” Simon goaded you on.
“Right there.” You nodded furiously.
A wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, from your core down to the soles of your feet. Your toes curled, and you squeaked, feeling Simon’s cock graze that soft, spongy, sensitive place—except he’d pushed in deeper. The sensation made your eyes roll back.
“Little dove doesn’t mind my pokin’ after all, huh?” Simon’s words were a tease, but you heard a strain in them, too. The second you were caught in the throes of real pleasure, your cunt must’ve clamped like a vice.
“Keep…keep pokin’, Si,” you choked out. “I like it.”
Your lover kept at it—poking from the inside.
The routine almost felt like losing your virginity all over again, together. Simon cradled your head, told you how good you were doing, how sweet you were for him, and you whimpered under his hold. Squirmed and clung to him for dear life, then kissed him feverishly.
Simon’s mouth was hard and hungry, his thrusts deep. His cock throbbed within the wet, clenching confines of your pussy, and he seemed to be going wild at the feeling. With the idea that he was driving you wild, too.
You realized as much when he whispered it to you.
“Could lose my bloody mind when you’re like this—” Another sharp, labored breath. Another shudder passing through his body when your insides squeezed. “—so why didn’t you talk? Ask for what you needed?”
Your voice was small. “Didn’t wanna be a bother.”
Your eyes were locked with Simon’s, and in his irises, you caught a shade of concern. It flared, hot as anything, then mixed with disbelief. Disappointment.
“Don’t be angry, Si, I—” you started, hurried.
“‘M’not.” Simon blinked. But he gritted his teeth, and he withdrew his cock until the head was bumping and teasing between your folds, then he shook his head. “It’s those fuckin’ pricks who should be sorry, yeah?”
The ones that you’d been with before.
You wanted to protest, insist that you were at least partly to blame, but you never got the opportunity.
Simon was back inside you in a blink.
Hitting that same spot again, and again, and again.
He grinned, the tic of a muscle in his jaw telling you that he was less amused this time around, but proud.
Vindicated.
“Well. It’s not like they’re ever gettin’ a chance in between these pretty legs again, are they, lovie?”
You nodded in agreement.
You smiled back at him, only to have that gentle curve falter a little when you felt Simon’s thrusts accelerate.
“Only thing that’s gonna touch this spot other’n my cock is my seed, splatterin’ all over your walls, right?”
When he gave a playful nip to your lower lip and squeezed your hand tighter, you knew that he meant it. The man had plunged so deep inside you that his pubic bone was now grinding against your skin, and the rest of him was buried. His balls, all full and warm and heavy with his release, rested firmly in your cleft.
And the steady, measured strokes of his cock landed with near-surgical precision on the G-spot you’d convinced yourself up until tonight didn’t exist.
Simon beamed. You were overcome with ecstasy.
“This it, lovie? This spot right ‘ere?” he cooed.
His cock bobbed against that gummy and indescribably dizzying place, causing your last moan to morph into something more akin to a shriek.
You nodded your head: “Y-Yes. Yes.”
“Feel good when I hit it?”
“Fucking perfect, Si.”
You sighed when the man bottomed out for what felt like the millionth time, and the pleasure never waned. He felt just as good now as he did when he first got in.
“Yeah? Gonna come on my cock then, pretty girl?”
“Yeah. I’m— I’m so close.”
“Go on then, love.”
And, shortly, you did.
Maybe three, four, five more stabs of his cock to your most precious, intimate place and you were unraveling beneath him, stars bursting in your line of vision. It seemed dramatic to say, but that was really what it came to—your mouth hanging open, eyes wide, gaze peering into Simon’s while he fucked you through the most intense orgasm of your life. You clung to him, and your walls spasmed again and again and again, milking the man’s release in the next few seconds. Simon shuddered and grit his teeth as he unloaded a thick, gooey load inside, dousing that spongy, body-numbing spot and then some. The two of you moaned in unison.
Your body was boneless, your head a hazy mess.
It took several seconds for your conscious mind to come back online fully, and when it did, Simon was leaning in again and planting kisses along your face.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, breath fanning hot across your skin. “My perfect girl. You did so good.”
You smiled and caught his mouth for a proper kiss.
“Thank you,” you murmured against him.
Then Simon squeezed your hand—the one he’d been holding this entire time. He lifted it gently, like he was afraid too rough of a movement might split you in two.
He turned your wrist and kissed the back of your hand, eyes locked on yours and expression soft while he did.
Dog hybrids needed stimulation. That was just biology.
Simon had read that somewhere, or maybe been told. Mental engagement in the absence of physical exercise. Keep the brain busy or the body would find something worse to do with itself.
He gave Soap your pussy portal when the dog hybrid was being too annoying for Ghost to handle.
That had been hours ago.
Soap was sprawled across his bunk, your pussy portal clutched in both hands, pressed hungrily to his face. His tail had been going since the first lick, steady rhythmic thumping that had slowed down now, gone heavy and languid, the way it did when he stopped caring about anything outside the immediate ten inches in front of his face.
He dragged his tongue slow and flat from bottom to top, gathered everything he found there, swallowed, did it again. Your cunt had been swollen for the better part of three hours, folds puffy and slick. He whined when you tightened, hummed when you softened, ears perking up when he made you gush against his tongue and tail thumped when he made you go still and shivery instead.
He sucked your clit between his lips and his tail thumped harder.
"Fuckin' hell, lass." The words came out muffled, half pressed against your folds. His voice had gone rough an hour ago, scraped raw from all the sounds he was making. Drool and slick had tracked down his chin and he hadn't once moved to wipe it. "Taste so good. Taste so- aye, tha's it- "
He drank down what you gave him with a sound that had no self consciousness in it at all.
His cock had been hard since the first ten minutes, sweatpants doing nothing, a damp spot worked through the fabric at the tip. He got a hand on it eventually, rough, impatient, barely enough, and when that stopped being enough he freed it entirely and lined the head up with your cunt and pushed in, hips rolling forward until the wet clutch of your cunt swallowed him to the root.
His jaw dropped open.
He bit his own forearm. Muffled something long and reverent into his own skin.
"There ye are," he breathed, when he finally could. "There- wee thing, look at ye, takin' me so- "
His hips moved before he finished the sentence. Short, hard thrusts, the kind that didn't have patience behind them. His tail had gone from lazy thumping to something frantic, whipping side to side, ears perked forward, pupils blown wide and dark as he watched your pussy swallow him down to his curls.
He bottomed out and held there, grinding, tongue lolling, a thin string of drool from his lower lip, completely unselfconscious about every single thing his body was doing.
Hours blurred. He’d pull out to lap at the cum he already pumped into your, tongue fucking it deeper, then mount the portal again. Rutting like a dog in heat, hips pistoning, balls slapping wetly against your cunt, cock aching more with every desperate thrust before slamming in deep and holding there, flooding your sopping pussy with thick ropes of cum until it leaked out messily around his shaft.
Then he’d pull free with a wet pop, only to start licking you clean again, over and over, never letting your poor cunt rest.
Miles away your thighs were clamped together, both hands digging in the couch cushions, a bruise already forming on your lower lip from three hours of biting it. Cum had tracked down to the back of your knee. Your cunt was swollen past the point of being able to track individual sensations, everything had blurred into one long trembling register of too much that somehow kept tipping over into more.
You had stopped being embarrassed about the sounds you were making an hour ago.
What the hell had gotten into your husband, Simon Riley, today? He wasn’t normally like this.
sometimes I’m reminded that there are still people who don’t know ao3 was literally created by incest shippers — and the site’s sole purpose is to 1. be completely against censorship and 2. host all kinds of dark, taboo fics that are banned on other platforms — and the first ever fic that was posted on ao3 was a fic about an incest ship from supernatural.
you are in the house that was created by freaks. for freaks (affectionate). every disgusting thing you can think of is rightfully allowed and welcomed on ao3, because they are exactly the reasons why ao3 was created in the first place.
ao3 was created because its creators got tired of censorship, they got tired of dark and taboo fics getting banned on pro-censorship platforms, and they wanted a place that was safe for ALL FICS THAT WERE DARK AND TABOO.
ao3’s main principle is being against censorship and being proship / profic.
there are some things in fiction that make me uncomfortable, but instead of shaming people who are just minding their own business and not harming anyone in real life, I choose to curate my own internet experience by blocking/muting what I don’t want to see. ao3 has excellent tagging system, so instead of being a bitch, use their tagging system properly and you won’t see the things you don’t want to see.
it’s your job to curate what you see. it’s not other people’s jobs or responsibilities to censor themselves for your personal comfort. the world does not revolve around you.
also you cannot censor “only the things you personally hate” without expecting everything else, that isn’t of conservative beliefs, to be censored too. because censorship is a slippery slope and a fascist tool. I promise you there are people who think “why do tags for queer love even exist on ao3? they’re grooming children”.
if you allow the things that you hate to be censored — because someone with enough power gets to control what other people can and cannot create/consume, it will not stop at the things that you hate.
“I’m sorry. You just feel so good. Fuck. My cock fits perfectly inside you. Oh, god- I can’t stop. I can’t stop. Fuck. I need to fill you up. I’m gonna fill you up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m- ”
janainaart
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
2087
pixelskylines
andulkaphoto
