your cunt gushes obscenely with every deep thrust of simon's hips, both of your arms behind your back with a single large hand of his.
his cock, heavy and pulsing inside of you, thumps against your cervix each time he humps your ass, sloshing around the old loads of his cum that he already dispensed within your pussy.
he has you on your knees, chest against the bed, your nipples stiff and dry from the constant stimulation. its painful, he's had you come several times around him, finding enterainment in the way you so easily can gush around him with a flick of his fingers on your clit.
"shiimon," you slur out, muffled in the sheets damp with your slick and tears and other fluids. simon stops his ruthless pounding on your cunt, opting for a harsh grind balls deep against your cervix, teasing the already battered and bruised tissue.
"tha's tha shit huh, baby?" he says lowly, almost out of breath. "enjoyin' yourself?"
you whine at his teasing, attempting to hide yourself into the ruined pillows before simon is slapping a heavy hand onto the sensitive flesh of your asscheek, already red with his hand print. he can be so mean sometimes.
you're not given a warning before simons laying his entire 250 pound pure hardened muscle of a body onto your much more sensitive and fragile one, screaming helplessly as the last inch of his cock that you always struggle to take slides in forcefully, pressing painfully against your cervix as if he was on a mission to break it and pass through into your womb.
if only.
with his body weight fully on top of you, youre given no choice but to go limp and flat against the mattress, your tummy and breasts digging into the material. simon lets out a throaty moan when your cunt squeezes around him, cock twitching upwards into what feels like must be your guts as you messily cum on his cock, your juices leaking out around him and creating an even bigger mess on his and your thighs.
"thats it girl, good girl," he praises, his hips tight against your ass. he leans down, his chest against your back so he can lay open-mouthed kisses against your earlobe, relishing in the way you shiver and attempt to squirm away from the overwhelming stimulation.
simon begins rocking his hips once more, slowly. feeling your walls open and close with every in and out of his movement. the peace is there for a moment, you're quiet and almost comatose from how good he's fucking you until simon becomes discontempt with your silence and hes angling his hips and pulling out until his tip is hardly inside of you and slamming back inside to the hilt.
its with the new angle that your back is forced to arch, pressure elevated to your lower tummy and as result your bladder.
its then that you begin to really panic. thrashing wildly and sobbing for simon to stop, clawing at his hand that is holding yours.
"s-simon! 'm gunna pee!" you cry, face hot as summer sun from pure embarrassment.
simon only scoffs, smiling lightly at your panicking. but he doesnt move. he instead uses his forearms to hold himself up, using his weight and slamming his hips against your ass with a lewd "plap plap plap".
youre wailing at this point. his ruthless thrusts force your tummy against the mattress, the immense pressure of his tip plunging against your cervix, proves to be too much for you. youve taken everything he's given you, letting him wear you like a fleshlight until youre nearly bursting at the seams, but this is too much.
"simon!" you warn one last time, sobbing and trying to push yourself upwards and away from him. with one final aimed thrust to your cervix, the dam breaks loose, your eyes rolling to the back to your head as you tremble and your muscle contract painfully as you cum once more, except instead the water isnt a small trickle and instead its a long stream of your piss.
simon just moans, long and loud, tipping his head back, continuing his thrusts. he flushes at the lewd sight of you twitching so cutely, pissing yourself from cumming too hard from his efforts.
he bites at his lips, humping weakly against you some more before hes pulling out, wet squelches audible as he pulls his engorged cock from the tight confines of your pussy. if you werent fucked nearly to the last inch of your life, you would feel the mattress dip underneath simons heavy weight as he shuffed towards your face, jerking his cock noisily over your face, his eyes glued to the puffiness of your eyes and cheeks, the wetness from your tears and the clear defeat in your bones, tipping him over the edge and at long last cursing your name as his cock spurts several hot ropes of his potent cum over your adorable face.
thinking about how it must be such a good bonding experience between you and simon to have him let someone else fuck you. especially when he’s already in there.
contains: dp, threesome, tiniest tiny bit of ddlg but not really
word count { 581 }
mdni - dead dove maybe ?
kind of inspired p!link
.ೃ࿔*:· — he’s laying back against the headboard with his cock already shoved eight inches deep inside you. you’re panting, soaked with sweat from the nerves already. his hands always make sure you’re fucked out for things like this.
your face is pressed right onto the side of his, a little bit of drool already sliding off your tongue from just not being able to close your mouth.
the hot bare skin of his chest pressing against yours. the solid mass of his arm caging around your back, making sure you don’t move. his other arm is so sweetly petting your hair and face. continuing to brush the messy strands away from your eyes while he mumbles things to you the whole time.
“my pretty baby.” “such a sweet girl for letting daddy share.” “promise it’ll feel good.”
he pats your bum once, angling his hips a little deeper and further up, a soft whine coming from your lips when his cock buries itself even more. it’s then you feel another set of hands on your ass. followed by a hot glob of spit. it makes you jump a little when it lands on your unused hole, a nervous whine making its way out when you feel a finger prodding in to the space simon isn’t taking up.
“just one more, baby. you can do that for me, yeah? helping daddy out so much.” he purrs into your ear.
the whimpers coming out of you are full of pure adrenaline, desire, and nerves. he can tell how worked up you really are about all of this. so when he hears the harsh mewl leaving you the second his buddy starts to shove his thick cock into your ass, he’s quick to praise.
the arm around your back tightens to keep you in place, his hand on your head buries its fingers into your scalp, trying to pet away the painful stretch. “good girl, sugar. such a good girl for me. so good at sharing, so good.” his mouth is right against your temple while he speaks.
his own groans fill alongside, he can feel the way you’re tightening and struggling to take two cocks at once. there’s a second of grace when he stills his, only to let his friend slip in and out of your ass.
it’s gotta feel soooo comforting to know simon is right there with you, holding you, stuffing you full in the most precious spot. his lips kissing at the side of your head while trying to get a glance at the sight of another man fucking into your ass.
“‘m right here, baby. not goin’ nowhere.”
there's nothing left in your head. just trying to grasp the concept of simons thick girth shoved into your cunt, leaking and getting his pelvis all sticky between the two of you. and its hard to block out the noises his best mate is letting out. its obvious hes excited too, the way he had zero mercy for shoving straight into your ass and continuing to piston in and out even when your boyfriend is staying still.
simon grabs your face by the jaw and gets your eyes to look at him. youre completely fucked out, lips covered in drool, eyes half lidded, your entire body is a ragdoll.
he wants you to look right at him when he starts moving too. each of you panting and whining, looking so lovingly at one another.
Sorry I'm actually not going to shut up about this because shutting up is what keeps getting us into these fucking messes.
Have you noticed how your favourite fandom tags are filled with people not tailoring their experience and instead complaining about shit they could easily block / sending hate to people that are having fun? Over the smallest of things? Hybrid fics, pretty basic kinks, twin x readers, etc?
This is what people were telling you about a few years back when they said “don't harass writers/artists over their taboo works”, “don't try to sanitise people's creative works”, “don't try to dictate what people can or can't write”, “censorship in fandom is not good.”
Because that was the start. That was the start and some of y'all won't swallow that fucking pill but it's true.
Because now we've nurtured a group of assholes who think the world revolves around them and their comfort.
Because now we've taken our safe space and made it into a moral high ground fest.
Because that problem wasn't cut at the root, now every loser with the access to the internet and one braincell loose thinks that their comfort dictates all and should be placed on a pedestal as if they're some infant god.
Fandom won't fix itself until we actually fix it. And until we push people like the above out of OUR space, it'll just keep getting worse.
My solution? Block blogs that complain and bitch about stuff they can just block. Callout people for their insufferable behaviour. It'll get messy but hey that's unfortunately what we've gotta start doing as the sane people on this hellsite.
sorry it’s 3am rn and i’m awake cause i am just so deeply saddened by australia’s complicity in the palestinian genocide. our government (mind you—the more left leaning major party) cordially invited the president of israel to visit to pay respects to the bondi shooting victims (who were primarily jewish but not israeli). there were enormous protests in both melbourne and sydney in regards to his visit (police arrested and brutalised protestors btw), and yet our government still refuses to place sanctions on israel and condemn/cut ties with them. i know this pales in comparison to what’s happening globally right now, but the increase of israeli propaganda and conservatism worldwide is so fucking scary, and knowing what’s going on in countries besides your own is important. australians are deeply unhappy with herzog being here, and so many of us feel betrayed by our government for supporting genocide.
contains: priest x simon riley
word count: { 1.9k }
dead dove warning: priest!simon x virgin!reader, religious corruption ?
.ೃ࿔*:· — the chapel was old, but warm and cozy in its own way. you loved how the stained glass looked after supper, how the frankincense seemed to seep into your skin after three minutes. but you felt so guilty being in these walls.
there had been a creeping feeling you could only describe as sin. it made you feel less than. the yearning for anything other than your religion felt, just wrong. father riley was there to help, however. he always was.
he was patient, he was trustworthy, he was always right.
it was after wednesday night service. the air was still warm, the sun was just peeking through. the lights shining in through the glass gave way to all the old dust still stuck in the pews.
"father?" you spoke softly, stepping towards his frame. he had just been leaning against one of the alters, reorganizing oils it looked like. but he was happy to turn and see you.
"my darling, what has you here this late?" he smiled.
your heart stuttered as you continued to step towards him. the words felt like they were right on the tip of your tongue but nothing was coming out. just such a devoted gaze at his eyes, blinking up at him, like you were begging for him to already know what was wrong.
you stuttered out the first word, but got through it. "i-i just wanted to . . i was wondering if i could speak with you?"
he set down his work, turning more of his body your way.
"always." he made it sound all so easy. waiting for you to continue, letting you take your time to find the courage.
and when you kept gazing up at him, stuttering through breathes and different letters to start the sentence with. he just smiled and dipped his head. urging you to follow. "come, we can sit." his voice was so calm. his hand rested on your lower back, helping you gain a little bit of confidence.
you bowed your head in gratitude, trailing next to him until he opened the doors to his office. the room felt so safe. it felt like everything you have ever looked up to, smushed all into a confined space. you took a seat when he gestured towards the chair across from his desk.
father riley took his seat on the opposite side. lax, content almost.
"what troubles you, dear?" he didnt just talk when he spoke, he coaxed.
when faced directly with the confrontation, your head lowered once more. but this time in shame. fingers twisting into the hem of your last summer dress. "i . . i feel wrong." you hoped that would be enough. even if you came here with a purpose.
he tilted his head and continued to coax, "wrong?"
you swallowed, breathed, then kept going after a few seconds. "wrong . . . like, wanting things i shouldn't. its desire, it feels like greed. just . . dirty and wrong," he said nothing, hoping the silence would get more out. and it did. "i pray. every morning and every night. but it's just . . like my mind wanders, and i can't focus on what i'm supposed to be focusing on."
your heart and all the trepidations have spilled right onto the old wood of his desk.
he let the silence stretch even more. giving you one last chance to get anything else out. when you didnt, he spoke.
"god is not foreign to desire. it depends on what you do with that feeling. where you put it." he was soft. and it comforted you. he looked over at you, never worrying about eye contact. "you've been carrying this alone?"
your voice had halted in your throat once again. giving him a gentle nod. but he saw the way your body was opening up more, feeling less shameful.
"come here."
he stood before you did. walking over to the small kneeler that rested below the cross on the wall. when you met him there he rested that hand on the small of your back once more.
"yearning is not wrong. what you feel is not wrong. it lives in every soul. you just have to learn how to guide it." there was such a serene edge to his words. the kind of tone that made you nod along at every syllable.
"how do i guide it?"
his thumb brushed along the fabric of your dress. "by confession," he said solely said. "honesty. you have to name the temptation for what it is."
when your lips parted again, but did that thing to prevent you from speaking. he must've seen the tremor in your fingers alongside it. "you trust me, dont you?"
it gained a quick response. "yes, father."
he smiled yet again, ushering your body to kneel on the padded surface. his body crouched behind yours. steady hands on your waist to let you know, im right here with you.
the floorboards creaked and whined with old wood. something that felt too holy for you to be on with such thoughts like this.
his hands moved for yours, one on either side to grab yours and pull them together in a tight hold. your fingers locked with one another while his palms held warm on the backs on your hands.
"do you want to let him know what youre feeling?"
your head shook no a little bit. it was such deep rooted shame you weren't ready to admit.
"i can do it with you?" he offered. and when you nodded yes, he adjusted his grip, and rested his forehead to the back of your skull.
you leaned forward and closed your eyes. praying for forgiveness and acceptance. begging to be understood and heard even if the words were only spoken in your head. only whispering broken words from the phrases you thought.
'i ask for forgiveness. i know your mercy is wider than any shame i might feel. i dont know why i feel these things.'
his breathing was calm and covered your entire body. reminding you that you weren't alone. he was here with you. towards the last five seconds, you felt like you had prayed to him instead. the guilt creeped right back up.
he waited to lift his head until you had done it first. his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over the backs of your hands.
there was an air in the room you could not describe. it felt safe, but as if it was feeding into your guilt at the same time. you wanted more. and he felt it.
the warmth of his hands left yours, and met back at your waist. he leaned forward again, resting his mouth against your temple.
you waited. you wanted to cry. to just be different. a sigh parted his lips. not of annoyance, but of someone who ached for how sorry you seemed to be for yourself.
there was only the sound of paced breathing and candle fire. when he sensed you felt stuck, he offered you another idea.
"do you want me to handle your penance?" every word sounding so sweet. how devoted he must be to take on your sins for you.
you didnt answer suddenly. just closed your eyes tighter and let tears of guilt seep out.
"oh, my darling . . . there's no need to cry. asking for help is never a weakness." father riley cooed to you, wiping your face with his fingers.
you nodded over and over again. sniffling and turning, asking for an embrace. something protective and comforting. he was delighted to accept.
his body leaned all the way back, giving you more room to move towards him. he used one arm to hold you close, adjusting your legs with the other. you clung to him so desperately. so reverently.
"i can help you talk through them . . i can help you express them . . id be more than happy to get those feelings out." he spoke against your hairline.
with another nod from you, he held you tighter for a moment. and then adjusted his grip. moving your legs to straddle his lap. one of his palms rubbed at the bottom of your tummy, "hurts down here, doesn't it?" you whimpered at the sentence, looking down and saying yes.
"you want me to make it to go away for a little while?"
your fingers tightened against his jacket. the rawness of all these emotions was too much to hold back now. you let out a final sob. "i-i just dont want to be bad. i always think of you. w-with those . . thoughts. during service a-and when you read. the desire is wrong."
he shh'd your words. pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. "desire lives in everyone. it is not wrong."
there was a long moment of him holding your shivering body. palming and rubbing where he could in hopes of helping you calm. after what had felt like ten minutes, your sobs dried and it was only sniffles that remained. you looked up at him, begging for something that could not be named.
"please help me." you whimpered. one last cry for help.
he sighed, and hadn't though twice about moving his hands. one holding behind your waist, the other bunching under your dress. your eyes stayed on him while he adjusted. eyebrows furrowing so pathetically when two of his fingers pressed right on that spot.
your legs twitched. he glanced back to your face when he had rubbed along the wet line of your panties. "right here, yeah?"
you pouted and nodded your head. instantly sucking in a breath when he pulled them to the side. tracing a heavy finger up your soaked slit. he never imagined it would be this bad.
it caused him to pull you tighter, your face now resting against his neck. "there's nothing wrong with desire." he repeated. moving that finger to press in just a little. you whimpered, but didnt pull away. even seated down on him a little more.
either way, it made it easier for him to slide his finger the rest of the way in. you shuddered and tried to burrow deeper into his hold. the sounds resonated so deeply in these walls.
your puffs of whimpered air. his steady sighs and groans. even worse, the clear evidence of how much you had been thinking of this. his finger was soaked from the first three strokes. already dripping down to his wrist underneath your dress.
he pressed a warm kiss to the side of your head and slide another one in beside it. that finally got you to squeal. but your body and heart were quick to adjust. begging him to give more. which he wouldn't yet.
they slid in and out so easy. the perfect heaviness of being full of something you adore. your gasped whimpers started to stain the fabric on his clerical collar. he pressed deeper, curling the tips of his fingers until he found where it made you jolt.
the first time it happened you whimpered a startled, "father?"
he didnt berate, just kept working that spot and muttered a soft, "I know, darling."
when you had finally drooled onto his clothes and tightened up in his hold, he held his fingers deeper and focused on the sweet spot. letting you come apart against him with gasped sounds and sweetened whimpers.
there was a sigh of relief shared between the two of you.
father riley pressed one more kiss to your temple and said, "youre a good girl. dont ever think any less of yourself."
contains: dacryphilia x john price
word count: { 1.4k }
.ೃ࿔*:· — john was never a rough man at home. rarely giving to notice to those things that did bother him. he was a good man. he just . . had some vices is all.
he enjoyed drinking too much most nights. never worked to get rid of the guilt he always felt. and he never really knew when to let go of that control he was always used to having. if it was a mix of all? you knew it would be a long night.
it was especially one of those nights.
the fighting had started downstairs, over simple things you had told him a thousand times. it simply felt like he had no longer cared. spending hours at the bar, coming home just to disregard the dinner that had gone cold. it was just a 'sometimes' thing, but it was happening more and more.
"i-i can't just act like im so grateful for you all the time!" you screamed at him, voice cracking halfway through. the worst of your habits was yelling and walking away. you wanted to be a big girl like that and make sure you were heard, but staying around to finish the argument was never your strong suit.
and most of the time it ended after that. he'd be too tired to follow after your words, but that statement got him to stop. he knew how sensitive you were. the night was just begging to create a bad mix of both your flaws.
he never saw it as a flaw. not when it worked in his favor the majority of the time.
you took the steps upstairs with a frustrated kind of cry creeping up on you. it all just sucked. he never used to act like this, or maybe he did and you had shown him a little too much grace.
you weren't even alone upstairs for three minutes before he came up.
"i've had a very long day, darling. and this is what i come home to?" johns voice even sounded like he stopped caring.
you were already over talking, it didnt feel like you could say anything without letting a sob out.
"you never listen. you dont hear me." you growled the best you could. it was really a pitiful thing he thought.
"god, you're so spoiled." he said flat.
it was just one of those arguments where you both felt like you were in the right. you hadn't understood what he was going through, and he didnt understand yours.
you just whined in frustration, not knowing where to exactly place the anger and form words. john was much better at that part of the the fight.
"i hear you just fine. i hear you all the time. 'john, the dinner's cold', 'john, youre late', 'john, you never talk to me.' "
wrapping your robe tighter, all you could muster was, "stop it."
he didnt even let the words sink in yet. "why, 'm i hitting a nerve?" he was always so quick with his words when he really meant it.
your angry tears had surfaced. groaning at him while crying. where did an apology even fit in? you wanted to be done with all the arguing. you just missed him. there was nowhere to go from here but down. he crossed the bedroom before you could figure it out. big warm hands right on your waist, reminding you of that control issue.
you pushed at his arms, it was feeble, you both knew you didnt really mean it. crying in frustration while begging him to come back, only to try and get him away.
"yeah," his voice was mocking in your ear, "cry about it. cry all you want now."
he grabbed you down until your back was on the bed. letting his beard scratch at your neck and jaw. that same hand on your waist opting to trail up your thigh. letting the warm cashmere of the robe being pulled to the side.
your sobs of frustration became more frequent. he fed on it. used it against you, just like he knew how.
"every time. you start screamin' at me, then you start cryin', and think i'll just leave you alone? that's spoiled. you are spoiled."
his hips pressed between your legs, using that hand to grab and pull at your panties. getting you shoved right up against him.
"completely rotten, forgetting who comes home with flowers, who makes sure youre always fed and warm."
he watched you bite words back. ones you couldnt even find, just looking up at him so angry. he knew you were just sad. that you just wanted him to apologize. his guilt would restrict him from doing it the way he knew was right.
to keep you still while he worked at his belt, he leaned down to kiss against your cheek. it was rough, always was when he was like this. "y'know i love you, baby."
john then got himself lined up and shoved the tip in before you started crying for real, "just hate how this is the only way you think you can get my attention."
he waited to see if you'd pull back first or not. of course you didnt. you really did just want him home.
"i hate you." you cried. he just rolled his eyes. always one for the dramatics, weren't you. he shoved his cock in the rest of the way. deep. right up to get you to arch and whine at him harder.
"oh, im sure you do. tell me how much you hate me, how this is just so unfair." he mocked. only caring to look between your legs. it was so wet. obscene really.
already leaking around him and getting his pelvis wet anytime he pushed forward. your tears didnt stop. but your hands couldnt figure out if you were meant to pull him closer or hit him away.
your sobs had a hard time mixing in with the whines he was fucking out of you. it felt so good. he was just too good at proving his point.
he kept grinding harder and harder, shoving as far deep as he could get and staying there. letting you cry for real at the pressure and whole principle of how wrong this was.
john leaned down to kiss the wet trails on your cheek. "rotten girl, all mouth until i get my cock in you, yeah?"
you nodded, and he just wanted to confirm he had you, all of you. "yeah?" he repeated. your eyes squeezed tighter, sobbing out such a pathetic, "yes."
he cooed, moving his arms around your body, keeping one firm on your hip and one on the back of your head. holding you tight while going back to fucking his cock as hard as it could go inside you.
every time he pushed in, he let a nasty grind end it. cementing in the fact he meant all of it. dragging in and out like he had to fix whatever was wrong.
"so much attitude in you tonight." he mumbled, breaking the tight hold to let his thumb move down to between your legs.
your thighs twitched and bent farther up the second he pressed down on your clit, rubbing down in hard and mean circles. it was more of a squeal that came from you this time.
he seemed more than pleased. "there it is. all that screaming and this is what you really needed."
your tears had gone everywhere. the side of his face, the pillow, down to your neck and soaking your robe. but you couldnt stop looking up at him like this was true love. even when the sounds he was pulling from you were laced with frustration and anger, there was always such a sweetly curved moan at the end of every sob.
he kept moving until he had felt your breath hitch and your cries become louder. your back arching off of the bed while the rest of your robe came undone, he refused to pull himself off.
continuing to let the thrusts come in hard and rough until he poured a load deep into your sensitive cunt. laying a hand on your tummy while panting out the rest of his energy.
"'m sorry, darling." he finally admitted, letting his scratchy beard press against your cheek.
contains: voyeurism x simon riley
word count { 1k }
.ೃ࿔*:· — you were so excited. elated, in fact. your very first own place. it couldnt be that different than home, right?
the bedroom was cozy, and right on the corner of the apartment building so you got extra windows. more opportunity to let the sun in and really enjoy the warmer nights.
in his own way, simon was starting to get excited too. the first time he saw you was within the first week of you moving in. his apartment wasn't the same, but an adjacent building. a thin alley was all that really separated the two of you.
he tried to pull back in the beginning. you just had such a bad habit of thinking the sheer curtains could hide anything when it was dark out. it was testing the restraint he had spent years working on. at the start it was nothing more than lingering glances anytime he walked by that one window in his living room.
the glances led to stops. the stops became sitting. it really was only a matter of time until this happened. at least that's what he thought. simon was nowhere near ready to admit that what he was doing was wrong.
he was waiting. right on his couch, drinking and pretending to himself that he cared what was on the television. the way you got ready for bed was his favorite. watching you pull the curtains closed, only to leave that gap in the middle with the sheer fabric.
it had to of been right after a shower, your hair was wet, but pulled up in a clip bound to leave knots. nothing about the way you moved gave any notion to the fact you knew you were being watched. it was all so naïve.
the way you tugged up the old sleep shorts. fingers splayed across the back of your hips to figure out where to start first. he even laughed to himself and covered his eyes out of pity when you bent down to reach into the cardboard moving box.
the guilt had gotten to him that night. turning the tv off and going to bed were the only things he felt like he could get away with now.
god, and you really had no idea either. the type of breathing he had to start using when he needed to calm down. how he couldnt even sit on his couch anymore without feeling remorseful.
it had been a couple nights of spending the hours after work unpacking boxes and rearranging useless decoration. but the work shift tonight had lasted way too long.
still getting used to where everything was, you wanted nothing more than to forget the stress and just get cozy.
the bath was perfect. making your skin sweat out all the small decisions from the day and the hot water work away at all the bigger ones. by the time you were done, the sky had gone dark. perfect. now there was no obligation to do anything other than unwind.
you wrapped yourself in a warm towel, grabbed the good lotion and went to your room.
the second the light turned on, simon's eyes moved to follow.
watched the way you picked out your pjs. even how your body swayed in a standstill while lighting a candle, like your hips were still trying to let out stress.
what he wouldn't give to help you get some of that figured out.
when you had finally let the towel fall, his hand had already been groping at himself for five minutes. you never looked over in his direction, and it drove him insane. if you would only turn back and look for longer than a second, you would see him.
he knew he would never last if you did. so he was trying to take his time tonight. no need to rush when he had nowhere else to be. simon took in all of it. how you gave yourself one last stretch before reaching towards the lotion.
his palm made its way under his sweats, sighing to himself when he finally pulled them down. his eyes never left the warm glowing silhouette of your body. he squeezed the base of his cock a little tighter when you moved to watch yourself in the mirror.
your fingers splaying down your neck and over your chest to get the lotion worked in. he groaned and twitched when you started palming your tits, letting your hands curve the moisturizer lower.
his own hand worked up and down the length of his cock. the precum had been soaking his boxers for days now, the sight now was obscene. his hips even started moving to meet the pace of his hand. he wanted more than this.
he got exactly that when you lifted a leg up on your bed, massaging it into your thighs and calves. his whole body whined. he tried to think about what you'd do if you'd seen him now. would you feel pretty? would you keep going? would you finally invest in new curtains?
simon felt pathetic. his cock ached so bad. it was leaking like he hadn't just gotten laid two weeks ago. his fist was wrapped tight around him, almost like he was punishing himself for doing something so wrong. harsh and wet strokes, the grind of his hips anytime his thumb grazed over the tip.
he was a mess.
when you had finished and leaned down to pick out a pair of panties he had never came harder in his life. a pitiful sound left him, more whine than groan, but his hand and tummy had been covered in cum. all from a perfect view between your legs squished together.
the only thing that made it even better was when you heard a sound through the cracked window. turning around gently to see. his heart dropped, then sped up again. he was already breathing hard. but he had lost all the composure left when you waved at him before closing the blinds.
After the rough of the storm, John's all about grounding you, his hands gentle yet firm running over your skin as he murmurs praise in your ear. He always drags you closer to him, staying pressed to your side and making sure that you feel utterly safe and claimed before you drift off. There's no teasing, no subtle games, just heavy breathing and the faintest of touches from his fingers against your sensitive places.
B is for... body part
It goes as no surprise that John's most favourite part of you is your ass (you simply CANNOT convince me otherwise) along with your inner thighs. He worships them like sacred ground. His fingers always leave light bruises from where he's held you there.
C is for... cum
John's cum is hot, thick, and messy. He loves to fill you deep, feeling you clamp down around him as he unloads with slow, heavy thrusts. Sometimes (rarely) he'll pull out, dripping strings of cum over your lower stomach or over your tits, but he usually finishes in you.
D is for... dirty secret
He's secretly obsessed with watching you touch yourself when you think he's not looking. He loves to watch your hips grind against the sheets and your fingers desperately chasing the edges of your pleasure. He likes to imagine your breath hitching, cheeks flushed, and sometimes he interrupts you with his hands or mouth just so you can beg him to put you out of your misery. He makes you come in less than a minute.
E is for... experience
John is quite a few years older than you, so he's had his fair share before meeting you (not that he's a hoe or anything) but he definitely knows what he's doing. He knows exactly how to tease you and how to find your weak spots. He's confident and commanding, but he learns to understand your own rhythm very quickly.
F is for... favourite position
Missionary, purely because he wants to watch every inch of your face twist in pleasure and pain beneath him. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand and uses his weight to hold you captive. John grinds into you with slow, PUNISHING thrusts that leave you gasping his name over and over like a broken record. When he occasionally switches to doggy, his grip on your hips tightens as he fucks into you hard and fast.
G is for... goofy
In the bedroom, he's mostly serious, but when he's relaxed he'll let a small smirk through. He'll sometimes throw in a teasing joke here or there when you least expect it, which at often times breaks the tension, before dragging you back into his raw and almost brutal fucking.
H is for... hair
He keeps it trimmed but not bare, it's rough and masculine just like the rest of him. There's a thick trail leading down from his lower abs, and when your mouth is on him he watches your eyes flick down to it like you're starving. He loves when you press your nose into that trail as you take him deeply in your mouth, getting lost in him.
On you? He doesn't give a fuck if you shave or not, but if you leave it natural... he groans against your cunt like it drives hm feral. He'll spread your lips with his fingers and tongue you like he's been starved, all the while muttering how soft and messy you are. So perfect. Sometimes, he pulls back from between your thighs just to see how slick you are, and then proceeds to dive right back into what's his.
I is for... intimacy
He's rough and demanding but fiercely tender in stolen moments. His touch constantly lingers on your skin long after he's actually touched you. His eyes never leave yours, a darkly possessive hunger in his own that makes you feel like you're the only person in the world.
J is for... jack off
Quick, filthy, and usually done with you on his mind. John likes to imagine your soft moans, the way you arch into him. Sometimes he jerks off slow and deliberate, edging himself to the though of you, until he finally lets himself let go, your face being the last thing his mind sees before total ecstasy.
K is for... kink
Domination is foundation. Keep that in mind. Hair pulling, light choking, and lightly marking you as his own with subtle bruises that bloom like flowers. He loves to claim you, but he's a gentle guy at heart (really!) so he makes sure not to rough you up too hard. He does it lovingly, and you love it. He savours teasing you and making you absolutely helpless, forcing you to trust him as he pushes your limits just enough to make you beg for mercy.
L is for... location
Anywhere that feels a little dangerous. Car seats, kitchen counter, etc. He loves the thrill of possibly being caught, and it drives his unearthly need for you even higher. However, his most favourite place is and will always be your bed, where he can spread you out and take his time completely ruining you.
M is for... motivation
Your surrender. When you're breathless and begging him, thats the moment where his hunger turns absolutely feral. John loves the way your body reacts simply to his touch alone, how your voice breaks as he dominates you, and the feeling of possession he has when he's inside of you.
N is for... no
No sloppy, lazy, or distracted sex. It's a big turn off and a big no no for him. Every touch, kiss, and thrust needs to mean something to him. He hates when the mood is half-assed. John wants full attention when you're having sex, he wants the intensity and connection that comes with raw and unfiltered sex.
O is for... oral
He's a demanding lover, sure, but an expert giver. His tongue learns every sensitive part on your body, and he loves to tease your clit with a very slow precision. When it's the other way around, he loves when you take him deeply, watching your throat move as you swallow him whole (plus he rewards you with filthy praise when you do this, so there's a bonus).
P is for... pace
He starts slow, grinding and teasing you with a deliberate pressure as he loves to watch you squirm with need. Then, without any warning, he switches to fast, hard thrusts. He loves watching as you get driven to the very edge and back again with his punishing and unrelenting pace.
Q is for... quickie
Quickies are not such a big turn on for John. Sure, he's had his fair share and they've been great, but he always likes to spend more time ruining you. Just like he hates when the mood is half-assed, quickies don't give him enough time to become fully immersed in the sex, so he tends to stay away from them. Unless you're suuuper needy and give him those puppy eyes he can't resist, then that's a different story.
R is for... risk
He's a risk-taker in bed, always pushing your boundaries. Whether it's teasing you in public or trying new toys and positions in secret, the danger of it all seems to excite him, and his boldness is only fuelled by the trust that you give him.
S is for... stamina
Endless. He can go for hours if you let him, until you're both completely spent. John thrives on your exhaustion, it makes him feel as if he's done a good job, using every ounce of strength he has to claim you over and over and over again.
T is for... toys
Handcuffs, vibes, and floggers are all staples in his small collection. He uses toys on you when the mood strikes. Sometimes he lets you take control of them, watching you pleasure yourself, and we all know that he gets off on that, majorly.
U is for... unfair
He's merciless with his teasing, using slow and deliberate touches on your most sensitive spots that bring you to the edge without letting you fail. He knows exactly how to make you bed, and keeps you hanging on to an orgasm with every whisper and breath.
V is for... volume
He's definitely not quiet during sex, he likes you to know how good you make him feel. His voice is low and he moans at his peak. He loves talking you through it too, the sound of his voice making you even more eager for him.
W is for... wildcard
John secretly loves when you get on top of him, slightly taking control and riding him rather than him being in control ALL the time. It's a pleasant surprise and a little change for him makes him all the more happier. The role reversal makes his dick twitch and his mind blur, a delicious secret he could never admit.
X is for... x-ray
Thick and heavy, John has the type of cock that stretches you out and leaves you sore for days (in the best way). He's got a wide girth that your hand barely wraps around, with a fat blush tip that drags against your g-spot and pushes up to your cervix when he's buried deep inside you.
Y is for... yearning
His sex drive is relentless, and he's always hungry for you. He craves the way you taste, feel, and the way your body feels when you're pinned underneath him. When you're (regrettably) apart, his mind constantly drifts to dirty thoughts and fantasies of how he'll take you next.
Z is for... Zzz
John crashes hard after sex, dead asleep within minutes, unless he decides to light up his cigar or have a cigarette. However, he always makes sure you're perfectly goof before dosing off, arms wrapped around you, protective and warm. His breathing evens out as he holds you tight.
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.ೃ࿔*:· — it was a new job. the first real big one. one that actually could lead somewhere and you wanted to do good at. it's only been three months, and you think you're starting to get comfortable with where you're at. the only thing looming above your head is the two visits to hr.
the job wasn't hard, at least it didnt feel like it. sitting at a desk in an office. the hardest part was how much the environment had shifted from your previous jobs. men were crawling all over now. the brooding kind, the ones that take everything so serious.
and they took it very serious when seeing how short that one houndstooth skirt was.
that was the first visit to his office. just an email sent in the middle of the day, nothing to draw attention from those around the office waiting with open ears. it was simple, and you thought that was the worst part. how professional it was to get yelled at like that.
" subject: Human Resources.
I've received a couple complaints today that I would like to go over and address with you. 1:15pm - please do not be late.
Simon Riley
Head of Human Resources
Room 113-A, Building C
Ext: 1072 "
it was just long enough of a wait until 1:15 for you to sit and pretend to type up an email task. that nasty feeling in your chest of guilt, and the hot flush of shame from the idea of being in trouble.
you walked down the hallway and to the front of his door at 1:10.
fogged windows and a black panel with his name. no one really went down this hallway unless they were here to see him. which didn't help the feeling of shame all that much.
knocking on the wooden part of his door before hearing the, 'come in.' your heart was already in the pit of your stomach, fingers absentmindedly pulling down your skirt a little bit more. giving an apologetic smile before he even had the chance to say anything.
it was quick. he kept it short.
"you understand the dress code policy, yeah?" - "it's just going to be a verbal warning this time." - "i don't want to have to see you in here again for something like this."
you nodded the whole time, shifting in the worn-down chair, and pulling the skirt down more while you did it. of course it was embarrassing being in there.
you opted for linen suit pants the rest of the month.
then the second incident didn't even feel like as big of an issue as the first. it was the way he handled this that made it feel worse.
the email came through once again, it had been almost five weeks since that first visit. just as simple, just as professional. smoothing over your blouse when you got to that fogged glass pane and knocking after a couple moments.
his eyes lingered on you a little longer. glancing down at the loose top and his eyebrows even furrowed just for a split second when he noticed you had abandoned that skirt from the previous visit.
simon was just the slightest bit condescending.
"do you understand what you're making the men here say?"
he said there were complaints about 'too much perfume.' which was reasonable. understandable. but he just made it feel dirty.
and it ended with another verbal warning. he said that three of those were a writeup, and he really didn't want to see you in here again.
now a couple weeks later, it was starting to feel less shameful to walk into work. putting your hair in those soft curls, a bow to pin back a pretty section of hair, only two sprays of the perfume behind your neck, buttoning the blouse all the way to the collar, and smoothing down the ivory suit pants.
this time you found yourself in front of his office, you could've cried before knocking. he hadn't sent an email this time, opting to call your extension, and get you in there now.
when you opened the door, your eyes couldn't meet his this time. you already knew what you were in there for.
fifteen minutes ago you had leaned over your desk to gather papers and loose sticky notes. the light toned fabric stretching over your ass and really leaving nothing to the imagination. only realizing too late what had just happened. it was like you could feel the eyes on you.
it felt so humiliating.
simon leaned back in his chair. the black button up stretching over his chest when he sighed. staring a hole into the center of your face, even if you refused to make eye contact. he spoke first.
"do you know how many complaints i've had about you?"
you couldn't say anything to that. what kind of answer were you supposed to give? maybe this job just was out of your understanding, it wasn't a good fit, no one wanted you here. that's what this felt like.
he let the words sink in and soak for a couple seconds. standing, walking around his desk and pointing to the chair in front of it. when you started to move, he walked towards the door and locked it.
only speaking once more when the weight of him was back in the chair across from you.
"skirt was too short . . . then it was the perfume . . and now the whole office can see what colors you prefer underneath? c'mon . ." he sounded disappointed.
the heat in your face traveled down your throat and into the center of your chest. it was just the worst. keeping your eyes down and a guilty apologetic look on your face. "it wasn't my intention." was what you said. keep it professional.
his finger tapped on the edge of desk, he was contemplating, but still staring you down.
"i'm starting to think you enjoy coming here. you were employed thirteen weeks ago. and you've been in here three times."
that made you look at him and swallow. if you really focused on the feeling, you could've thrown up.
"i apologize for what happened. there was n-" your voice is shallow before he cuts you off.
"you're not stupid." his tone was flat. "you know what tight pants do when you have red on underneath."
the air between the two of you felt so dense. it was one of those moments where you can't focus on anything besides what's currently happening. you couldn't say anything, even if you sat there thinking of a sentence for fifteen seconds.
and he let those seconds simmer. sat there and continued to let you think about what was going on. another sigh parted his lips before he leaned back again.
"stand up." it was so casual, there was instinct in the way you listened to higher ups. the sliding of the chair was the only sound as you rose in front of his desk.
"turn around."
his eyes were now hot on your backside. you were gnawing a new cut into the skin of your cheek. you weren't sure what to do with your hands. picking at your nails while you waited for him to say something else.
" . . . hides less than that little skirt did, if i'm being honest."
that was the final breaking moment in the professionalism of hr department head, simon riley. the atmosphere changed, and you could tell this was already so much different then the previous two times inside these walls. his chair squeaked and his shoes moved across the floor.
your heart skipped, and there was an unsettling lump in the back of your throat. it was more than nerves at this point.
his next sigh warmed the back of your neck. his hands rested on the side of your waist.
"why do you keep doing this, hm?" his voice sounded soft, but his fingers were kneading into your skin. his dark eyes looked down at you from an angle, still behind. the warm pads of his thumb rubbing into your bone gently.
"you are either desperate for attention . . . or far more naive than i give you credit for." simon's tone was so calm. it felt wrong for the way the tension was settling. like this was something he had thought about and contemplated on for too long.
your eyes stayed straight or looking at the ground below you. his fingers were so warm on the fabric covering your skin. it was bleeding into those parts of you you've been trying to avoid.
your lips parted to speak, only a faint attempt at words came out. he filled the empty gap for you.
"i have been patient. far too patient with you." his fingers moved to angle your hips. coaxing you to bend at the waist - and you did. his grip wasn't tight, there was full leverage to pull away if you wanted.
of course you didn't. not from a man like him. your body bent slightly, letting him press his hips back into your ass.
"this whole time you've been dressing like a promotion is just one tight blouse away." his voice stayed composed.
heavy fingers massaging into your muscle, you could feel his eyes just staring at your ass. the red lace even more noticeable with the pants stretched across it.
"you tell me to stop and i give you corporates hr number . . " he offered as an easy out. a second passed, then five more. nothing.
so he kept going. smoothed his left hand over your ass, one of his fingers dipping into the hem and hooking around it. tugging for fun. the right one around your waist came down in front to pull down the zipper of those ivory suit pants.
little whimpers started to leave your lips, being caught in the moment like this was not what you had expected this morning. but the idea of it being wrong, just made everything feel sooo good.
those pants came down just enough for him to lean back some and look at those pretty panties close up.
he laughed. just a short one.
"oh, you do like comin' in here to see me." his thumb sliding down the soaked slit between your thighs.
the whole time, he stayed completely composed. at least as best as he could with how hard the tent in his pants was straining. just a soft coo was the only break when he pushed them to the side and dipped his thumb in, just to tease.
your fingers found purchase on his forearm, it was across your tummy now. keeping you at that slightly bent angle for him. you were holding tight, putting all your energy into squeezing his arm instead of moaning.
even now however, you tried to defend yourself against the complaints. wanting to just say something to soothe that guilt still buried deep in your chest. "i wasn't trying to cause a problem with other people."
the voice was so soft. he knew you meant it. but he also knew you meant it when you apologized the last two times you were in that seat at his desk. so all it did was agitate him.
he pulled out, started messing with his belt.
"what did you think you were doing? you're not oblivious, and im not either. can see the way you wait for me to talk to you in the break room. know you're just aching for me to tell you goodnight when we clock out . ." his tone started to get more pointed. he got his pants down just enough to slip himself out. "could've filed a complaint myself."
the last sigh he let out was when he finally leaned you over a bit more and started to press the leaking tip of his cock into you. it wasn't sweet. it felt so wrong. you're staring directly at papers on his wall that talk about what a proper work place environment looks like.
there was no doubt that this would not be the last time he had you like this. that much was evident.
in the way he quietly groaned, the way his hips already stuttered, and his fingers dug around your waist more. you were already staining the black fabric of his chino pants.
"shoulda done this after that little skirt incident . . would've saved us a lot of bullshit."
You tried not to think about Simon after that, but the more you tried, the harder it became.
You saw him in your dreams at night, every night for a week. Every dream was different and it was like he had taken over your mind completely.
It was only when you saw him again – hands dirty, shirt clinging to his back in the sweltering heat – that you managed to rid of the nightly occurrences.
To you, it felt like fate was playing cruel games with names you weren’t supposed to know. Or maybe not fate, but something more malevolent.
You didn’t cross paths by accident. You’d gone looking, not that you’d ever admit it to anyone, especially not your father. He was waiting there, though he’d never say that either.
The church loomed behind you ominously, with its white steeple cracked and leaning. The graveyard was usually quite this time of day, and it lived up to the expectation that day. The only thing that dulled the quietness was the incessant churning of the cicadas, their chorus echoing through the tall grass.
You found him there, leant against a crumbling headstone, smoke curling from his lips as usual. He didn’t look surprised to see you.
“You come here often?” you asked, voice hushed like you were sinning.
He shrugged, eyes shaded beneath the brim of his cap.
“Quiet place.”
You moved closer to him, careful not to step on any of the names on the burial spots.
“You knew him, didn’t you?” No answer. Just a drag from the cigarette, bright red embers burning like a warning. That was now the second time you'd felt as if something was warning you within the span of a week or so.
“Were you in a war? I heard people saying that there are some really bad ones somewhere out East.”
Still nothing.
His eyes lingered though, watching you like he was trying to decipher a language unfamiliar to his own mother tongue.
“You ask too many questions,” he said, softly this time.
You blinked, ready to turn away in a heat of embarrassment and distaste. But then he said your name. Your full name. Voice lower, speaking clearly. He said it slow, like a psalm. It made something in your chest crumple in on itself.
You stood motionless there for a moment, the wind barely moving like it too was holding its breath.
He didn’t look at you when he said it, no. Just stared past you, maybe even through you, like your name was carved on another gravestone that he was just reading aloud.
“How do you know my name?” you asked, and the words felt too fragile. Too late to fix that now.
Simon turned slightly and looked at you properly.
“He used to talk about you,” he said. “Your father, a long time ago.”
He thought that the answer was enough. Not to you it wasn’t.
You stepped a little closer, eyes narrowing, searching his face for secrets he wasn’t letting on to. “Why were you at the wake?”
A pause. Long and silent.
“To pay respects. Isn’t that what most people go to wakes for?” He said it more as a statement rather than a question.
“You’re lying.”
His jaw tensed at your response, like he had somewhat lost the game of being the "mysterious outsider".
“You shouldn’t be here,” he replied, quietly.
“Neither should you.”
The cigarette burned to the filter between his fingers, and he let it fall, just to be crushed beneath his boot.
You could hear your heart beating louder than before, louder than the church bells that had just started to chime, louder than God himself.
“Why are you really here?" you almost whispered.
He turned and walked away, leaving you standing among the dead, your name still lingering in the air like a ghost.
-
It had surprisingly rained for three night straight. This was certainly somewhat peculiar to the town, although short-lived, but was appreciated deeply by the people. Although being a blessing the crops and fertile soil, it was the kind of rain that crawled under doors and dragged mud through the creaky church pews.
You hadn't seen Simon at all since that day in the cemetery. It seemed to be a recurring theme; you would interact for a mere few minutes, and he'd disappear for days.
Despite this, you could still feel him. A presence like no other, and it was clear. The kind of feeling that made the back of your neck prickle and gave you telling goosebumps on your bare arms, hairs standing up straight. You surely weren't imagining it.
Mrs Harrows, your dear neighbour, said she saw a man walking out past the old schoolhouse, long after dark. Said he had a slight limp, and that he didn't answer when she called out to him. He just kept on walking, coat slick and heavy with rain.
omg if this is annoying feel free to like ignore this i completely get it but i almost wanna get to know u better now that we're moots?? is that bad??
like what's ur go-to drink order if you had to go out somewhere? what are your favorite sleeves on a top/blouse? corsets yay or nay? fruits or nuts in ice cream??
eeeek omg so sorry I haven't been online much because work has consumed me and I can't wait to not work anymore. ily moot ily mocalocha
everyday I wake up up and think 'is today a match day or a chai day ?'
but if im at home and want to try and not spend money my fav drink of all time is the yogi positive energy sweet tangerine tea. I love it so much it's so good.
I work a full on 9-5 and the only blouse I own is frilly and very flowy. im very picky about blouses. so its got like a frilled collar all the way down to my tummy in the center and its so cute. I wore it for my first day in 95 degree weather.
and here's a fruit / dessert hack I love and eat up every time. get like two-three oranges and get them all peeled and in a bowl. then some frozen chocolate bars crushed up into small bits, caramel, and whip cream. plsplspslpls omg its so good. I love oranges if you can't tell.
not a request but in love ur fics :p right up my alley !and its so so hard to find an author who writes the kind of stuff im into WITH the characters i’m into 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
wahhh thank u sweet hunnie pie :') im happy youre here
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