damien🍓

Hello hello hello!!

My name is Damien — I write! I am still in school so it does take me awhile to post, but my passion is writing. And as any person does… when you can’t write books, write fan fiction. — Fair warning. The further you go down in my page, the later the dates you see, the worse the writing will be. You’ve been warned.

Feel free to ask me anything! 😸

Masterlist!

—

Simon Ghost Riley 👅

~ Pervert Simon

~ Simon, and emotions

~ Degrading / Worshipping

~ Soft love Simon

~ Older Simon

~ Simon loves you wrecked

~ Simon with a biter

~ Simon fawning over M!Reader

~ Mmm, Muscles

~ LEWD Gun play

~ You’re tense. He has a cure.

—

John Price 💋

~ (REQ) Confident, drunk reader

~ ‘One time thing’

~ Old man nicknames

—

Kyle Gaz 🫦

~ (REQ) Knife play

—

Kinktober 2025 link!!

__

My do’s & don’ts!

Do’s:

- If you see a spelling/grammar error, please correct me! It helps me learn!

- Please please please submit anything you’d like me to write about. But, do include: A scene, character, things you’d like to see, and word range. I can create a story on those, but the more detail the better! (While under this category, you can specify NSFW or SFW or it will be up to me.)

- I am okay with pet names. As long as they aren’t slurs, curse words, insulting names, or anything of the type. Pet names I am okay with.

- Make flirty jokes!! Please do not do anything too explicit, for obvious reasons, but friendly flirting is allowed and approved.

- I usually write GN, but if you want a specific gender in the request, I will try to interpret that best I can.

- Controversial take. I see a lot of blogs ask this—if it’s an M!Reader POV they ask you not to read it from a F!Reader POV and vice-versa. Of course, if they have that on their page, respect that!! ..Buuut on my page, I do not really care. It’s your imagination making a battle with mine. You do you, just have fun.

- You’d be surprised at how many kinks I am okay with writing. You’ll never know if you don’t ask—this is a judgement free zone, unless it’s illegal. Then judgement.

I will add to this on the occasion. If you are unsure of something, comment or send it as a question! I will answer when I see it!

Don’ts:

- I will NOT write loss of virginity trope. I am okay with writing readers first time doing an OTHER sexual activity, that isn’t their loss of virginity.

- I will NOT write age-gap where it tips illegal/underage reader. I have no problem writing age gaps as long as they aren’t too bad.

- I will not write scat.

- I will not write anything about feet fetishes. Toes alone freak me out.

- I will usually not write anything higher than 1K. I would love too, but I do not have that much time and energy. Please be understanding!

- Criticize me. I am open to constructive feedback (like mentioned, spelling/grammar errors,) but please do not make fun of, or belittle, or hate on my works. If you see an issue with them, that’s that. Under that same topic, if I wrote something wrong, out of character, or it isn’t correct for the topic, I do not mind being corrected. It helps me learn.

- Do not copy my works. Do not repost them on other sites. If you want to make this into a Character.ai bot, you need to ask me first. Thank you!

- I don’t have good mental health. I appreciate support and I don’t mind when someone asks when something will be out, but please try not to rush me.

Anons, currently:

-🐝 anon!!

I will add to this in the future too! Just like I mentioned, if you are unsure of something, you can always ask a question!!

The hashtag ‘#Damienblabbers’ will be my works. The hashtag ‘#Damienyaps’ (when I begin to post regularly) will be for non-works — all of my rants, random thoughts.. that stuff. When I begin to post them all, of course.

That comes to an end of my masterlist for now! I will add to this when I get works out!

— P.S., ..I will write what I’m comfortable with. But I will also write (pretty much) anything you request me to. For instances, if there’s characters you’d like to see that I have not written about, I will write them and do my research to write them in character. Right now i’m really into Criminal Minds.

~ ( …and, i don’t repost anything on my page for the sake of easy navigating, and keeping my page ‘tidy.’ did you notice that? i take pride in it :3 )

Enjoy!!! 😸😸

~ 🏳️‍⚧️ ~

Sure, your superior was an asshat at times. But he wasn't a mean man, he didn't bite. He could just be a dick.

But fuck, he could be a dick.

He'd grin at your pouty face. The way you looked up at him through batted lashes, his stupid smirk.. He tilted your chin to him as your lips were lewdly stretched around his cock, softly fucking into the back of your throat to hear you choke.

‘cmon, birdie, you can do better than that,’ his voice was gentle as he poked the back of your throat. ‘lieutenants’ orders,’ he mocked.

He’d slowly lower his hand down your neck to feel your sprinting pulse beneath your soft skin. His fingers were calloused and cold. It made shivers run down your spine.

Your eyes watered as you swallowed around him, as thick as he was, making your jaw ache—as he just chuckled, watching you try to get to the base of his cock. Lieutenants orders.

Or how inconvenient it was for him to fuck you raw and rough the night before, having you on your knees with his hand threaded through your hair as he slammed into you—just for him to grin, that sadistic bastard, as he gave you more laps the next day during warm up.

‘Lieutenants orders,’ he’d mock.

Oh, you wanted to get him back.

He called you down to the private meeting room.

You decided to start a… bratty protest. When you walked in the door, you practically edged him—giving him nothing, not playing along.

Not that you didn’t want it… but his puppy-eyes, his strained-cock, wimping and untouched—it drove you mad.

But he could only get pushed so far.

‘ah, it’s like that,’ he muttered. ‘now why don’t i call captain and have you explain to him why you aren’t listening to your superiors orders?’ His voice was low.

Except, you knew he wouldn’t. For a man like him—he wouldn’t let anyone else ever lay eyes on a body like yours.

A shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

His hand slowly gripped the roots of your hair, dragging you closer. You let him.

‘Lieutenants orders,’ he spat.

His hand pushed you to your knees.

His touch was gentle, his hand going to the back of your head—knuckles pressed against the wood of the meeting room door—hearing it rattle on its hinges as he fucked your throat raw.

You’d never admit it. You’d never tell it to his face, not even for a million dollars—that you loved his title, how he abused it, and the words he’d say—‘Simon says take your shirt off.’ Love-sick idiot.

.

a/n: i literally moved on in kinktober prompts because i had no idea how to write this. the 12th is tomorrow so im just rolling with this.

He’d smelt your scent before he’d seen your face.

It was a wild time at base. All the alphas would hide in their rooms, trying to get the heat out of their heads—but Simon wasn’t all that affected. He’d grown up with blockers, so ruts didn’t come easy.

But your scent lingered in the halls.

He’d wondered why nobody was trying to break down your door during their ruts—I mean, you’re the only Omega at base. Why was only he affected?

He thought the best thing to do was to leave you alone for the day. But the smell only got stronger, like a leaky faucet in your room slowly flooding base. Why could only he smell it?

It got to him. It rotted his brain, drove him crazy.

He could’ve sworn he was foaming at the mouth quite a few times today alone—and though he hadn’t gotten a rut since his early teens—his constantly aching, angry cock was starting to get annoying.

Soon enough, he was the one trying to break down your door.

—Except, he grit his teeth, willed his cock to chill the fuck out, and softly opened your door.

The shivering he saw made his heart drop. Here you were, your lousy fingers between your thighs, and a pathetic nest made out of the two bedsheets given and single pillow on the bed. His missing sweatshirt gripped in your hands like a vice.

His stomach dropped. He’d never been so fast on his feet to get you more blankets and pillows before in his life (and, of course, more of his dirty, smelly clothes).

You moaned when he came back. ‘please—hic—close the door,’ you begged. His cock stirred again.

He stalked over to you. You were like a human furnace, with how hot you burned under his touch.

He softly willed your fingers out from your sopping cunt, a whimper dragged from your lips. He brought your fingers to his mouth, licking between the sticky digits and sucking them into his mouth.

‘let me help you baby, please,’ he whispered. You nodded with all the energy you could muster, ears pinned back on your head.

Your sweet scent filled his nose. His mind.

For the first time since he teenage years—he was thrown into rut. Such a violent one, infact, he could barely control himself from fucking you right then and there.

He threw you to your back. Legs went up to his shoulders, as his pointer and pinky pressed flat against his palm as his two spit-soaked fingers gently slid into your heat. Your back arched, your hips instantly rocking into his fingers.

His fingers are big. Much bigger than yours, and oh-so-calloused from all the years of use—rubbing against your soft, spongy walls. He couldn’t hold his breath forever.

He fucked his fingers into your heat like a wild animal.

Soft mewls and whimpers came like a waterfall from you. Slick gushed from you, coating your thighs, drenching the sheets below with sweat and sugar.

He brought his fingers to his lips, lapping them clean. You cried out. A beg—‘please, si!’—before he stripped his belt and shorts off.

He’d never felt so needy in his life, as he drove his cock right to your womb. The way you gripped him, fluttering around him and fucking your hips to meet his thrusts—it was like you were trying to milk him dry.

He got up high. Made sure he could drill his cock as deep as it could go into you, his angry, throbbing tip railing your cervix.

You whined from the pain—but it felt too good to ask him to stop, so instead you begged him to keep going, harder, faster, something to itch that fire growing in your gut, the need to be filled, to be fucked until you can’t speak.

He cupped your face softly, his cock throbbing deep inside you in a steady, aggressive rhythm as he continued to slam into you.

Your eyes rolled with a whimper as you gushed, pearly and hot, all around him. He had to pause—he could feel you fluttering and practically convulsing as you were thrown off the edge.

He gaped.

His balls drew up tight, lewdly slapping and sticking to you with each thrust—before he filled you up. The noises from you, from him—oh gods, it was straight from a porno.

You felt too good.

Again. This time, your face down into the pillows with his shirt wrapped around your eyes—fucking nice and rough and oh-so-fast.

‘Again,’ He’d spit, having you on his lap as he had to resist fucking up into you as you shivered and shook while lowering yourself onto his cock.

It’d been hours.

You were on your back, legs wrapped around his waist. He wrapped a hand clean around your throat as he hammered his thick cock into you.

It had been hours since he had walked into your room, and you could still feel every vein and ridge on his cock as it dragged over your sensitive walls—and every thrust was a sweet, sweet stretch.

You felt his cock throb against your womb. You knew he was close again, about to cum—but he didn’t.

Instead? He started to swell.

‘f-fuck!’ You whined. He was started to get bigger, swelling at the base—stretching you obscenely wider.

He continued to rut into you—with no luck, given the swell—before with a lewd, hot pop, his knot gave into you. He was locked inside you now—his throbbing head forced into your womb.

Then it starts.

His knot begins to empty into you—not letting any cum spill—as it fills you up and swells your stomach.

He was grunting, gritting his teeth—but prying his jaw open long enough to clamp it down to your neck. Marking you.

You whined. His cock finally began to soften as he pulled it out of you—watching his cum begin to gush from your open and abused hole.

But the noises?

Oh, those sweet noises you let out drove him mad all over again.

He’d be locking you to the bed for the next few days—that is, if you don’t pass out.

~

FEM!Reader!

Working at a place like this meant moving a lot.

Taking shelter in abandoned homes and waste-lands during cold nights, to setting camps in forests during the worst weathers to avoid the enemies surrounding.

It meant being everywhere, making no mistakes, being quiet, being stealthy, and being able to hide when needed.

So—when a distant gunshot rang nearby while you were out—far out from the rest of the team—you hid. Faster than your rational thought process.

You dove behind bushes. A tree, a hole rotted through the centre of it leading into a darkened, hidden area—the perfect hiding place, right?

That is, until you got stuck mid shove through the tree. Fuck.

It caught at your hips, your torso and up making it through the gap—but everything else? Exposed behind you, out of your line of vision.

The rotten wood pulled at you as you tried to break free. It creaked and chipped, but was too hard, too sharp to slither out of. Oh, goodness.

It felt like hours—which, was probably just minutes—before you heard the heavy footsteps of someone behind you. Fear tingled at the base of your spine.

‘oh, fuck, birdie,’ his familiar voice rang, ‘i thought you died. everyone heard the shot and sent me out to get you,’ he murmured. Simon.

The tingling ran up your spine like electricity, the fear melting into lava ran to your gut. Even though you couldn’t see him—the vision of him, feeling his eyes on your most sensitive spots—made stars spark your eyes.

He walked forward. Hands went to your hips, held them still as he pressed his waist against you. You had to hold your breath.

‘alright…’ he breathed, ‘stay still.’

He tugged you back. His hips rocked against yours as he tried his best to force you out. It felt lewd, the way his junk slotted so perfectly against you. A steady throb started in your gut, a slick heat starting to pool.

Out of all times…

He tried again. His fingers dug into your skin, his hips pressing tight against yours as he tugged. No budge.

‘my gods, birdie, how tight did you wedge yourself in here…?’ he muttered, so quietly it was as if he was talking more to himself then he was you.

His hips didn’t move, but you felt his cock begin to stir.

Though you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine what he looked like—eyebrows furrowed, cheeks beginning to flush.

The arch of your back was purely instinctive. It drove his hands a little further, grabbing you around the torso. His hips accidentally rolled.

His fingers were so cold against your torso, the small moan and shiver was a total accident.

He paused. ‘… so naughty, lovie..’ he whispered against the cold night air. Your heart raced. In tune with the throb of your cunt.

He slowly bent down. Leaned closer to where you were wedged, though you couldn’t see his face and he couldn’t see yours—simply so you could hear him better.

‘…. may i?’

Oh goodness indeed.

It took no shorter than a minute for him to strip your shorts to your ankles, your brand-new panties ripped and thrown somewhere to the side.

His tongue was awfully hot against your skin. A single stroke of his tongue through your puffy folds sent sparks through your whole body.

He ate like a starved man. His fingers dug into your skin as he shoved his tongue into your sopping cunt, his tongue pressed flat against the heartbeat deep in your heat.

You throbbed against his tongue, and it made your thighs shake how good it felt when he flicked his tongue against that sweet spot—dragging his tongue all the way back from that spot to suck your slick into his mouth.

He moaned.

‘taste so fuckin’ good, baby..’

His lips locked around your clit, sucking harder than ever. Knees bucked, eyes rolled.

He grinned. You could hear it in the way he laughed as you shook.

His tongue slowly went through your folds again. Not deep enough to make you feel good—just deep enough to make your head spin.

A whimper echoed in the forest. A beg, his name woven somewhere in your jumbled sentence, followed after.

Oh, it drove him wild.

So of course he got off his knees faster than light.

Of course his belt came off and tightened in his hands—and of course—the throbbing head of his cock met your entrance, and with one smooth, aggressive slam—he buried himself to the hilt.

He was fast. He gave no time to breathe, no time to get your own thoughts straight—before he started to hate-fuck you further into the tree.

His angry tip dragged against that soft, spongy spot deep inside of you—before it slammed all the way in, poking at your cervix.

A moan ripped through you. He didn’t relent until he saw you gush around him, cuming with a scream—before he dragged his fingers through your folds and sucked them clean.

Another shot rang somewhere in the distance. He pulled his cock out clean with a lewd pop—before slapping his hand right against your puffy and open cunt and grinning.

‘alright, baby, we gotta get going before they come looking for the both of us,’ he kissed the base of your spine, ‘but i’ll carry you so your back isn’t sore.’ his voice was sickly sweet.

His hands gripped the bark of the tree as he started to pry you out.

But he still made sure to wipe your tears of pleasure—and held his word, carrying you all the way back to camp.

GN!Reader!

To say Simon was bored would be an understatement. He'd slept with all kinds of people—simply 'getting his dick wet' didn't do anything anymore.

He was curious. Wanted something that made him feel electric again. So what better way then to find somebody who does a bit… more?

Gods, you were like heaven on earth.

The sound of your voice was sweet, teasing him, as you opened his calloused hand—placing the wooden paddle and helping him to curl his fingers around it.

Oh, the way you kissed his neck and let your lips slip down his body as slowly backed to the bed, leading him with you..

His jaw was taught as he stared at the wood. Nothing special, a simple, but hard item—that crackled against your skin in the nights’ air.

He was fast to flip you around to your knees and forearms. Again, with those sweet, sweet noises—how could he say no to you?

He kissed the blooming red marks.

Oh, he’d have fun with this.

That was the first time. The next time?

‘oh, you wanna be like that, baby?’ His voice was low, almost taunting, pretending to be bratty—to mock him.

‘very cute. over my lap—or do I have to come get you?’

—To say a shiver didn’t run down your spine would’ve been a lie.

He lifted one knee so your ass was raised. His hand came down hard—a sharp, stinging spank right across your skin. Your head lifted from the mattress in a moan, before it was cut off by the sound of another slap coming down.

He grit his teeth. His other hand slowly went to hold your hair, to make sure your moans weren’t drowned out in the mattress—something so sickly sweet. ‘gotta hear those sweet moans, lovie,’

Oh, gods.

Another spank landed down harder. Slapping across the red skin, watching it bloom in the print of his palm and fingers.

A strangely hot—weirdly sadistic—way of marking. It made him strain in his jeans.

As if to soothe the pain—or, maybe to take your mind off the sting—he sucks two of his own fingers in his mouth, before fucking them into you.

He still had the 4 new paddles to try out that he bought—because why wouldn’t he if his baby loved them oh-so-much?

… shorter one i apologize.🥹

..believe it or not—I believe with my whole heart and soul that Simon Riley, the man himself, is a yearner.

Since the earliest ages of puberty, he can remember being asked if he was a boobs or ass kind-of guy. Jokingly—he’d usually say boobs.

Truthfully? Everything.

He won’t sit there and lie to you. He won’t sit there and say his favourite thing about you is your personality. He loves you too much to lie to you like that.

He loves your boobs. He doesn’t care if they’re real or fake, cares less if they’re small or big. He loves you. Why should he care what parts you come with?

He also loves your ass. The way it looks when you walk—whether it jiggles or its firm—he’d pop a boner and salivate in the mouth at the sight of you.

The nights you let him in your bed? It’s like he’s been given a gift from the Gods with the look on his face, in his eyes—like he’s never been more grateful for a thing in his life. I mean—look at you. ‘you’re a goddess from the heavens above,’ in his words.

He’d love every part of you—all night.

Taking your shoes off softly, kissing your toes as he massaged your feet, his lips laying a trail down to your heel. Each foot with love, his hands soft against your skin.

Then, he’d kiss his way up from your heel to your knee. Pushing up your skirt, letting himself get a peak. Don’t get too greedy now, he’d remind himself—reminding himself to savour every bite he can get from you.

He’d help you shimmy your skirt down next. Off with your shirt, away with any clothes. He’d admire you. How can someone look so perfect?

He could see it in your face. How nervous you were, how shy you looked. He made sure to kiss the bridge of your nose, his other hands holding your cheeks.

‘you’re my pretty girl. like a field of flowers, baby, you’re so beautiful,’ he’d murmur, kissing his way down your neck again.

His mouth latched around your tit, worshipping the skin—his other hand massaging the tender skin until it became soft beneath his touch.

His hands went down to your stomach. They lay on the soft skin, and he brings his head down to it, pressing a kiss above your belly button. ‘how’d you get so perfect, lovie?’

Gods, even when he went down on you. Lapping one long stroke of his tongue through your slit, tasting your juices—he moaned.

He’d hold your sweet thighs around his face as he delved your cunt, sucking softly at your clit to make your back arch—but lapping his tongue as deep as it could reach to try and taste every part of you.

He wanted to know how you tasted. How all of you tasted—from your cunt, to you skin, to your saliva, to your tears—to the blood from your heart. It drove a man like him crazy.

He kissed every inch of you, burying his head into the sweet hairs of your cunt, to your armpits, to your neck—getting a smell of everything.

The look you gave him, with your sweet eyes, dazed smile—you didn’t even need to give him attention, he came right then and there.

An exhibitionist?

The words hung heavy in the air.

He’d never really considered it—fucking in public?

He couldn’t care less about the public being there, or how unsanitary it was, or the fear of getting caught—he’s just never had the will to try it.

He never cared for it.

That is—until he heard the bathroom door swing and shut behind him as he entered the store’s bathrooms.

That is—before you shoved him into a stall, dropped to your knees—and pulled his cock from his pants.

He was startled, sure—but it was nothing really new for him. You’re his crazy lover. When you wanted something, you made sure you got it.

This is the first time you’d been so.. bold, to say.

His head fell back against the cold porcelain as he felt your tongue—hot in contrast to the cool air—lick through his beading slit. Your hand was quick to wrap around his aching, readily hardening cock, taking his angry red tip to your mouth.

‘fuck, baby—‘

The way he grit his teeth, the look in his eyes, the way his hand slithered to grip your hair—you knew you were getting him going. Teasing him with the warmth of your mouth—not giving in, not giving it to him.

You didn’t care how bad your knees were cramping, slowly dipping your lips further down his cock—the look of him moaning made it worth it. It wasn’t enough to give him what he wants.

Just enough to tease him.

You watched as he covered his mouth—trying to quiet the lewd moans toppling from his lips.

You saw the fear behind those pretty, glimmering eyes as someone walked into the bathroom. The door creaking, the stall beside you locking. His hand in your hair tightened, tugging backwards—as if to stop the pleasure.

.. Well, if he isn’t asking for it now..

You dragged your tongue up from his base to the tip—circling around it once, twice—before sinking down, his cock pushing the back of your throat. The way his head tilted back and nails dug into your scalp made you hum in amusement.

Simon couldn’t help but push you further down—after all, through embarrassment he was still a man—as you willingly let him.

Pulling back from the base, you kiss his angry, throbbing head before easing him back down your throat, further, this time—until your nose buried in his hair. Gods, that smell was erotic.

The moment that bathroom door shut, the moment you felt his balls tighten, the moment you knew he was about to cum—you pulled right off him, kissing the tip, and winking at him as you closed the bathroom stall door behind you.

He knew you could be mean, he knew you were crazy—but gods, this? Cruel.

The next time you went out shopping with him, he dragged you to the back isle—stuffed two fingers deep in you as you practically rocked the rack of sweets—fucking his fingers rough and fast into that spot that made you scream. ‘how’s it feel, huh? you like being fuckin’ teased?’

He fucked you in the supply closet after that, too.

Grudging bastard.

Simon could be the sweetest, most caring lover you’d ever had. But he could also be a cruel, mean man. But gods, it felt so good.

He’d gotten ticked off one too many times at work.

Someone had spilt coffee on his favourite shirt, then his shoe laces tied together, and he was behind schedule. In your mind, minor inconveniences. In his mind, the perfect excuse.

He had your hands behind your back, one hand holding them together, so your face was buried in the pillows with your own slobber, as he bullied his cock into you. 

Your moans were still hearable, of course, as cruel as Simon was, he loved the sound of your voice wrecked. Drove him mad.

His hand in your hair, pulling a little ways away from the roots just so you feel the sweet sting.

His words were mean. But they felt so good.

‘Yeah, just like that. You like when you get treated like this, huh, baby? Like you’re just my slut?’

Those words made your toes curl.

‘All mine. You ain’t good for nothing but fuckin’ when you get this stupid.’

That made you melt, tears spurting from your eyes like lava.

He tugged on your hair rougher, forcing your neck back, and your back to arch. He’d leaned forward until you could feel his warm breath in your ears, over the goosebumps on your skin.

‘Come on, you can’t be that out of it already. Chin up, baby.’ He stopped his movements, to roll his hips deep inside you – just to hear how your breath hitched and drawled out in a whine. He grinned. Mockingly.

‘Look at you. Like a cock-drunk slut. How much I gotta pay you after this, huh? Like a street-corner whore?’ He’d grin, slamming his hips all too rough and deep. You cried out – and he’d lap up those tears like sugar. His hand slithered to your neck. Not hard enough to bruise, of course, but hard enough for stars to spot your vision. 

He fucked you rough and fast, but he’d stop to hear you scream, he’d slow so he could make this moment last hours.

He’d spit down at you, his words like venom but coated in sugar and said in such a way it made stars erupt in your eyes as you came for a lost amount of times that night.

But he’d kiss you, suck another hickey into your neck like he's just the sweetest lover ever.

Simon was fucking you mean.

Bullying his cock into you, chasing those sweet whimpers tumbling from your redden, swollen lips—to hear how your voice would crack and lewdly draw out with each of his thrusts. He’d grin, the sadistic bastard, watching you try to move on your own to get friction.

See—he had you tied down. 

Your arms above your head, tied down to the bedframe. Your feet above his head and over his shoulders, ankles tied together behind his head. His hand was wrapped around your cock—weeping and neglected—his grip so loose it felt like torture.

He’d grin. ‘Keep moving, baby, if you want me to keep going.’ 

You would have to move your body—having to force your hips up despite the ropes – to get any amazing friction.

It’d been hours. And every time your hips were sore, too tired to keep going—he would stop moving.

A whine pulled deep from your chest.

‘Come on, pretty boy, you’re better than this,’ He mockingly drawled, met with another whine. ‘Please—please Simon,’

He paused. He laughed. Then, his hand came behind his head, and pulled your ankles over it—tied together, before placing them up with your hands, one of his hands holding them down—so he had the perfect view of where his thick cock was keeping you full.

His hand around your cock tightened. Then, he started up again—pumping deep into you. Slowly, at first. Just to watch himself sink perfectly into you, rolling his hips just perfectly against your prostate—before speeding up again.

He used his tie that was limply thrown to the floor to cover your eyes. He drove into you faster, harder—moving his hand faster, tighter—the noises of your broken voice falling apart echoing within the four walls of his room.

‘T-Too much, too much—!’ He’d hear you beg. He’d laugh, low and nearly mocking, just to watch you squirm. ‘Thought you said it wasn’t enough? You can cum now, don’t be shy.’

He ran his finger over the slit of your cock—rubbing the heavy amounts of pre-cum into you as he ran his hand down the base—watching your back arch all over again when his calloused fingers rubbed the soft, sensitive skin just below your aching mound.

‘Come on, baby. I thought you said you needed to cum, hm?’ His voice was low. Oh-so-taunting. 

And with those words, lava poured over you, stars spotted your vision—and you came the hardest you’d think you ever came in your life. —And then, you were out of it.

Fem!Reader!!

Simon never imagined himself as a kinky guy. Never thought of himself to get into BDSM, toys, kinky shit…

…Until he met you.

Gods, you were hot. He swore he’d do anything for you.

… But what he didn’t have in mind is for you asking him to chain your ankles to the bed with a bar between them—forcing you to keep those legs apart—and for him to fuck you senseless.

Of course, he wasn’t complaining. Anything for his lovie.

So there you were. There he was, spreading your sweet, sweet pussy to the cold air, your legs forced spread above your head, and grinning up at him. ‘filthy thing,’ he’d mutter, a grin over his face.

He’d start simple, of course. The easy toys.

Fucking you softly with one of your large, sparkly purple dildos. You’d stare at him, begging and pleading for him to do something more than fuck you—I mean, you’re ‘a kinky girl! Come on, Simon!’—as he’d spit down on you for some lube and fuck you a bit softer. Just as torture.

But how could he refuse his sweet girl? Soon enough, he’d have you sobbing.

A small but mighty vibrator pressed to your clit, making tears gush from your eyes and make your thighs shake—a gag in your mouth to keep you loud but quiet, as he slowly fucks himself into you. ‘This enough for my baby?’ He’d ask, in his oh-so-mocking tone as he fucked into you far too slowly.

You’d sob.

He wouldn’t let you cum, either. He’d fuck you until the sun started peaking through the blinds—and you’d be cock-drunk, babbling and slurring words to him, something a mix of ‘please’ and ‘i’m— i’m gonna—‘ But in his mind, ‘Good girls wait to cum.’

So you’d be on the fuck machine, to the vibrators, to the gags, to the plugs, to the clothes pins pinching your nipples as you sob out for him to fuck you right. Oh, but don’t get it twisted…

You still loved every second of it.

And… maybe Simon learned something new out of this too.

For my bot!masc readers!! i love you guys have a field day with this.

Simon loved to fuck you senseless—but, it wasn’t exactly ‘senseless,’ considering you were twitching, pleading and begging to cum—being edged until your whole body ached and the only way you could get release is if you thrusted yourself up into Simon’s hand as he fucked you. But even then nothing was helping.

He would grin down at you. Thrusting just perfectly to hit your prostate, rubbing softly and tightening his hand grip a little more just to hear your mewls.

You’d arch. Sobbing, convulsing, his whole hand drenched in pre-cum—but just as a moans about to pull from your throat as you cum, he’d stop his hand, slow his thrusts, watching that moan turn into a pathetic whimper as you collapse back down, chest heaving and body trembling.

‘Come on, pretty boy, good boys have to work for what they want.’ He’d purr, leaning right down into your ear to mutter it—soft, caring—but oh-so mocking.

But he was right. It riled you up, just how he liked it.

After a long time of sobbing, begging—he’d let you ride.

You’d place your hands to his chest, knees on either side of his torso—trembling hands and a bleeding lip from how hard you’ve bitten it—as your sore legs push you up his length and to the tip of his awfully, beautifully large cock, before sinking back down.

You could’ve sworn he re-arranged your guts with that single push.

You’d whine. A long, honey-dripped whine pulled straight from your stomach where you can feel it boiling over, about to cum—!

When he’d place a thumb right over your slit. The action made your hips jerk—making him grind even deeper and harsher against his sweet boys prostate—but his thumb held you shivering.

You still couldn’t cum. The approaching orgasm, as you could feel so heavily coming in—washed away. A sob wracked through you.

He rubbed his thumb over the bead of pre-cum, spreading it out around the sensitive flesh and grinning. ‘well? keep riding, baby. good boys don’t get to cum for free.’

And he would do this for hours.

Building up your orgasm, as good as it could be, seeing stars—just to ruin it, with that stupid, hot, sly grin on his face—and if you had any energy left, you’d bite right off his face.

Oh, but he loves you.

Especially when you give him those big, round, puffy eyes, tears spilling from them—a soft mewl coming from your lips, followed by a whimpered ‘Simon, please…’

And oh.

Oh.

He’d be fucking you as rough as he could, hands digging into your sides as he railed your prostate, the sensitive little bud.

Stars erupt in your vision as your whole body tenses and you can feel a knot form in your stomach—and just as tears are about to spill, ready to be denied—the most intense and extreme emotions wash your body as you cum.

You don’t think you’ve ever cum harder in your life. It spurts out like ropes, painting you, painting him, and your whole body convulses in a drawn out whine—before your body goes limp.

Yeah, Simon thinks that’s a night gone good.

Fem!Reader!

Simon was nothing short of an amazing lover. He was handsome, caring, and absolutely huge—but even then he was as gentle as a butterfly.

But as nice, caring, and gentle as he was—he was a monster in the sheets.

He’d ravish you. Shoving you back down into the sheets, kneading at your beasts and biting at your nipples, hearing you moan, watching you writhe—it made his cock twitch.

He’d spit down between your legs, watching it run down your slit—before shoving two fingers rough and deep down inside you, finger-fucking the spit right to your cervix. You’d cry out—but the moan following was oh-so-worth it in Simon’s mind.

Or when you were down on your knees in front of him. The way you’d bat those sweet, sweet eyes up at him as you went down on him, humming when you felt his cock throb in your mouth—it drove him mad. Made him muttering a ‘fuck’ and a ‘just like that, baby, you’re so good.’

He’d spit down on you. Landing right on your cheek, before he fucked your face harder, your saliva, your tears—all mixing with the spit. Grabbing at your roots, making sure to tug your head back to see your pretty face when you began to choke.

Or when he’d be fucking you after the gym. He fucking loves your natural, stinky sweat smell—always making his cock stir the moment you got home. He’ll shred those shorts and bend you over the counter in no time—dropping to his knees first to ravish your sweet cunt (because as much as he’s a horny bastard, he’s still a gentleman,) before stuffing you full of his cock.

Grinding his hips deep into you, the way he knew to make your eyes roll in your skull.

He’d spit on your ass—landing one, harsh smack against it that made your knees buckle with a loud, shaky moan—before another smack came crashing down.

‘come on, baby, be a good girl and take it,’ He’d mutter, spanking you so roughly the skin bloomed and blossomed and deep red—but you only moaned as he spat on the skin again and softly kneaded it in.

And fuck, the noises you let out—it made his cock throb.

Sometimes, when work got too boring—your mind would drift to your nights with Simon.

The way he’d hold your wrists above your head—surprisingly softly for the hunk of a man he is—as he slowly drove his cock in and out of you. You could feel every vein, dip, amazing imperfection—the way his angry tip poked softly against your cervix before he rolled his hips.

The noises ripped from you were always so lewd for how gentle he was being.

It’d always start out like that—with him being gentle.

Then he’d be rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers, kissing the spot on your neck that made your whole body convulse and shiver—rolling his hips more roughly now, using his cold hands to his advantage by pressing at your clit—the small bundle of nerves totally shot from just how good it felt.

You’d be slobbering, blabbering, convulsing and sobbing—overstimulated and begging to cum. But he’d slap a hand over your soaking core, giving you a grin and telling you ‘you’re my sweet girl. I know you can wait.’

It makes you melt. Not just the act of sex, or remembering how good it felt being stuffed to the brim like you meant for it by Simon…

Just aroused at the thought of Simon.

Yeah, you called out sick awfully fast.

Of course, Simon would laugh hearing you tell him why you’re home early.

But then he’d place a hand to your lower back, guide you oh-so-softly to the bedroom and lay you down.

He’d ravish you that night.

Eating every sweet, sugary drop out of you, sucking and lapping at your cunt—then taking you to his lap to ride him, sucking your chest and biting your nipples between his teeth just to hear the noises spill from your lips like the tears from your eyes.

Or how he worshipped your stomach, your neck, even going as far to kiss the sweet tears from your even sweeter eyes and murmuring ‘I know it’s a lot. But you can take it, can’t you? Be good for me, baby.’

And oh, that worked.

But you couldn’t come. Not while he was in charge on a night like this.

So you’d do this for hours, needing and deprived, begging and hungry—all to end convulsing, twitching, sobbing and have never been happier.

I’ve loved to read people’s works and be a supporter for so long, it’s great to be able to participate this year:) and i’ll say it’s so fun but so exhausting.

~ aaaand, if you like these posts but want it in a different gender, send a request!!

Anywho I hope you enjoy yourselves, and have a feast !! 😸

Kinktober 2025!:

Day 1: Overstimulation

Day 2: Spit

Day3: Orgasm Denial

Day 4: Toys/Spreader bar

Day 5: Bondage

Day 6: Humiliation/Degradation

Day 7: Risky/Public spaces

Day 8: Praise/Worship

Day 9: Spanking

Day 10: Glory Hole

Day 11: A/B/O

Day 12: Authority/Rank Pulling

~

the list!!:

Anyway, loved it, got me thinking of other things like knife play. Yk, since Ghost is about gun play, I have this image tht contrary to what one might imagine, I'm thinking Gaz definitely likes knife play. Though less in the obvious threat to you and more about being able to control how much he hurts you, having he safety of his own control over it as a way to remind himself he wouldn't actually hurt you, y'know, just fucked up kind of control play.

This isn't a request btw, just my usual brain worms, though you're free to write abt it loll. Remeber to drink water and eat!

- 🐝

omgomgomg can I actually crawl in your brain instead. All apologies this took so long, bee, i’ve been speed running kinktober prompts. Anywho.

Gaz with GN!Reader—totally fucked up knife play. Anon brain worms!!

Gaz wouldn’t go as far as to say he loved knife play—sure, he had.. experimented with it, but something deep inside him didn’t want to admit that he really, really liked knife play.

He’d have both your ankles in one hand to his right—resting on his shoulder as he fucked you senseless.

He didn’t take a lot of pride in being rough—but the way you were moaning, the sounds you let out as he drove into your sweet spot? Gods, it drove him wild.

He knew you loved it when he was rough—but he wasn’t all the same. He didn’t want to hurt you—didn’t think he had enough control to keep himself controlled.

So—as any sane man would do, he turned to find something to hold onto. Something he had control over.

His hand flicked the leather sheath off his knife. It definitely wasn’t a lousy pocket knife—instead, a knife you’d gifted him a while back. A skinning knife. To skin what, exactly? That was between him and the grave.

He gently pressed the knife to your throat. The whine dragged from your lips was sweeter than anything he’d ever hear again.

His voice was low, rough, and quiet—as if he was hunting.

‘shh, it’s alright, baby. you’ll be good, won’t you?’ — The stars erupting in your vision were brighter than any you’ve ever seen.

He held the knife tighter to your throat—a force of habit—as you whimpered his name. His eyes were focused, unblinking—as he rolled his hips deep into you. You could feel him brush against all the right places.

He blinked his eyes to focus. Usually—he’d be drunk off the feeling, of how good you felt—but having the knife in his hands drugged his mind in a new sense.

He could remind himself he wouldn’t hurt you.

That you trusted him—trusted him with your life, even with his knife at your throat—even at your most vulnerable state.

The knife slowly trailed from your neck. It barely pressed into your skin as it slowly drew a line down your sternum, down to your stomach—and to where you two were connected. To where he was buried to the hilt inside you.

The knife—the cold, icy metal—dipped inside you. Slotting beside his cock.

He kept the blade down as he drew it out—licking the cold metal clean of your juices. His eyes focused on your unfocused eyes—the eyes of a man drugged on you.

The pleasure erupted through you before you could stop it—fluttering around him, as if to milk him dry— as you came.

He’d grin. For a man like him, for a situation like this? You knew you were in for it.

‘what’d I say, hm? guess we’re gonna have to go again, hey, baby?’

Hello hello hello! My brain worms of the day!!! GN!Reader and Price.. With his old-man nicknames.

Price was an amazing lover. He knew how to cook, how to clean, how to love you properly – how to apologize for his mistakes, how to kiss it better. He was sweet, patient, understanding and kind – what was there not to love?

People often asked him what he loved most about you. He wasn’t able to answer.

It mildly ticked you off that no one ever asked you what your favourite thing about him was. 

It was everything, truly. From how his rosy cheeks lifted when he smiled, rounding out so perfectly it made your heart melt.

Or how his eyes looked when he looked at you. So full with unrestrained love, his whole view taken up by just you.

Maybe it was how neat he’d be, even with his field of work. How he’d clean under his nails, tidy and chip them after every deployment.

How he’d always brush his teeth after smoking, just for you, and how he’d actually clean the sink after he shaved.

The bare minimum, sure. But gods, after dating men your age? This felt like a blessing.

But overall, your favourite thing about him was his way with words.

You’d be sitting in the garden.

The one you and him spent hours placing together like a puzzle – when he walked out with tea in his hands. Sugar and honey, how he knew you liked it.

‘here, pretty.’ He’d murmur, making sure to kiss your head before he left you be.

In the mornings, he’d come to kiss you goodbye before he left.

‘i’ll see you soon, sugar,’ he kissed your forehead and held your cheek, brushing the hair from your face when smiling goodbye.

When he’d say goodnight, he’d hold you in his arms, tuck the sheets warm around you, and whisper sweet nothings to lull you calmly to sleep.

Things like, ‘goodnight, sweetie,’ or ‘i’m here, dear.’

It made you melt every time.

His voice so soft, so gentle – as he rubbed you back when you cried, his other hand softly scratching the back of your head. ‘it’ll be okay, birdie. everything’s gonna be fine.’ Though there were times it was hard to feel that way – his words lulled you. 

Oh, he entirely, was definitely your favourite part about him.

- 🐝 (just checking in, keep safe!! ^^ )

HELLO HELLO HELLO!! missed you bee!!

i’m doing more than okay:)

i know i know i haven’t been posting, im working on a lot of drafts currently so i have more to post!! (aaandd guess what months coming up next? 👀)