[context]

So, I have come to your inbox to humbly request a little scenario featuring this kink in whichever form you feel like writing it. Because if there's one thing I know about myself it's that sometimes it takes exactly one good pitch to make me go from "I really don't see the appeal" to so bricked up I'm dizzy lol

Please corrupt me

cracks my knuckles gaystyle

(clarifying thing as someone who has actually done this irl: it’s most fun with only liquid in your stomach, not food! i am not imagining chunky vomit here lol, just regurgitated water. easier cleanup, less painful/distressing for the person puking, and really just makes the proceedings wetter. very fun.)

simon wanting to learn to properly deepthroat so fucking bad (maybe grace has a big dick, maybe simon just has a sensitive gag reflex, maybe both lol). when grace does it to him, it’s mind-blowing, and he wants to be able to please grace the same way. they’re slowly working to desensitize his gag reflex, but it’s frustrating; simon wants to have grace down his throat now. grace says that, if simon is willing to take the risk, he is too.

simon knelt between grace’s legs, carefully bobbing his head on the part of grace’s length he can comfortably take. every few strokes, he lets grace’s cock slip an extra half-inch or so deeper, testing himself. it’s nowhere near the back of his tongue yet and still, just the barest bit of extra length makes his throat clench in protest.

grace grips at the base of simon’s ponytail. “ready?”

simon hums affirmatively and squeezes his eyes shut as grace shoves him down onto his cock. he can feel every inch of him slide deeper, deeper, hitting the spot where mouth meets throat.

“swallow,” grace murmurs; when simon does, his throat opens and accepts grace’s cock, at least for a moment. he gags hard and grace lets go so simon’s throat can expel him.

“again,” simon breathes. he gets his mouth back onto grace’s cock and grace pets his cheek before once again grabbing at his hair.

this time, simon knows what it’ll feel like when he swallows. grace tells him, “hold it, sweetheart,“ and simon wills himself to, holding his entire body perfectly still with his lips around the base of grace’s cock (holy shit) and his nose in grace’s pubes (holy fucking shit) for a dizzying three seconds before he gags again. he doesn’t even pull all the way off this time — he’s too eager to go again. the fullness, the closeness, grace’s low groan of approval, it’s all intoxicating.

the third time, when simon chokes, he forces himself to stay down. his hand is on grace’s thigh, fingers clenching and unclenching. his abdominal muscles heave. the next gag brings with it everything he’d had to drink earlier, a cascade of water over grace’s cock and groin and inner thighs, and simon’s body forces him to lurch off of grace. he gasps, air rushing back into his lungs, and blinks tears of strain from his eyes.

“baby.” grace pets over his shoulders, his neck, cups his cheeks. “you’re perfect. that was perfect.”

all simon can say back, voice hoarse, is, “ryland.”

Will you take care of this tiny fluffy chick and give her love and protection from the world? She can fit right in your hand.