#black cod

[fattributes]

Miso Black Cod Lettuce Wraps

[quieteating]

Jin Kichi

At times, my friends call me a moaner. At times, they are right. One particular thing I like to constantly complain about, is the lack of decent Japanese food in London.  I’m not talking about Itsu and Wasabi or even Wagamama.  That’s fake Japanese which is something to offend as much as drinking beer out of wine glasses.  When people ask me why it disgusts my sensibilities so, I fall back to the…

[harahetaa]

just some world class japanese dining with my pals

[k1tk4ttt]

How it feel to finally accept and embrace the cringe of reading x reader fics

[tojisteddy]

Ruthless

or: Country!Simon catches you attempting to tag his property, of course he has to teach you a lesson.

cw: 3.6k words, 18+ mdni, Country!Simon, alt universe, no use of y/n, some plot with smut, dub-con, spanking, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, age gap (Simon 29, reader 23), primal play & reencounter (if you tilt your head), pet names (little girl, city broad, lucky), fingering, lite pussy pronouns, degradation, lucky!reader

a/n: a scrapped Drabble turned into a full story cause I love plot

part 2!!! <3

You were running like your life depended on it.

It was dumb for you to even attempt to tag the Riley barn to begin with.

You knew that, your friends knew that, anyone in town would’ve warned you otherwise.

It all started with a little end of college fun, wreck havoc like the good ole days. Nothing out the ordinary. Something that supposed to be a silly little prank, saying goodbye to college and hello to adulthood by spray paint and a little egging.

Was it a little too much for your liking? Yes.

Just plain rude and disgusting because at the end of the day, what exactly did Ghost do to deserve any of this? But peer pressure is a nasty, annoying, bitch. Regardless of age.

The Riley Ranch had been rumored as evil and haunted, the only people who really interacted with the land being other farmers. Even when Simon Riley, the last standing of the family, came to church (on the rarest occasions), people kept their distance. Afraid his families “bad” energy would spread over to them.

They called him Ghost.

There was a fire at the families home, started by Ghosts father who was always in a rage. Your father made sure your family stayed clear of him when you visited, he wasn’t too kind to quote, ‘big headed, posey, no good, city slickers.’ No one thought his rage would grow so large into trying to kill his whole family.

No one one besides Ghost made it out that night, there was rumored to be a large burn mark on his back to prove it.

You’d gotten found too fucking quick, “What the hell do you think you’re doin?” His voice booming on the highway road.

Simon Riley was blessed to have ears like an owl. Heard the car pull up and stop on his property, the rumbling of the engine— a beat passes— the car doors slamming shut and the far off hushed giggles. Nothing new, people had passed his property to spook whoever the hell they were with. Try to show how “evil spirits” ran rampant on his land, even if they were, he hadn’t ask for them to be there. But they’d never stop. They’d do it before.

They’d do it again.

But he heard that can of spray paint shake and his boots hit the floor before he even realized it.

Not the brown farmhouse gate he’d spent so long sanding down as a child with the help of his grandfather. Not the white ranch fence he’d spend so long getting together as soon as the land was properly handed to him and in his name, that’d he hand painted himself and fixed up the grass so people knew better than to drop any litter there.

No fucking way.

Your friends were already in the mustang you’d arrived in, those bastards, revving the engine and zooming off. You dropped the can, more spray getting on the grass fuck, fuck, fuck— your brown eyes slowly looked up, meeting a more than livid pair blue eyes.

You wanted to squeak out, ‘im sorry’ but where would there be room for that? Not in between the ranch fence that already had a squiggly line and crooked smiley face with black spray paint on it created by yours truly. There would absolutely be no room for an apology when his face was already screwed up, jaw clenching from underneath the bandana that hid his face, eyes narrowing into slits.

Well duh, babe. Move those feet!

And you did, turning at a 90 degree angle and sprinting like it was the end of the world. Ghost mumbled a ‘god damn it’, and ran right after you, his boot quickly meeting a carton of unopened eggs.

Oh you were definitely in for it now.

You ran through the Egyptian wheat, tall as the eye can see, green leaves scratching your arms and legs. You prayed to God there wasn’t any crazy animals hiding in there. You were panting, taking a quick glance behind you and you could only hear rustling of the large plants that surrounded you, feet hitting the floor.

Then you heard a distant yell in the field, “[+], you get back here!”

Well it wasn’t exactly the hardest to spot you out, you looked like your mother— who looked like her mother. You came from a family known for actually being good people, never hesitating to help or providing when need be. You’d met Mr. Riley a couple times in your 23 years of life. Quick instances that you vaguely remember. But you knew his face, and he knew yours.

Your mom had been one of the few good people making sure he was well taken care of when he was younger, she couldn’t raise him like she had wanted to with having to travel back and forth from the city for work as a children’s author. But she’d made sure he was taken care of in whatever home he was placed in, encouraged him to join the Boys and Girls club, something to ground him.

“Just needs someone to look after ‘em is all,” she’d ensisted while braiding your hair one night before heading to meet him at his group home, fingers weaving through your curls with purpose, you were around eight. “Some kids need a lil extra love, show ‘em someone’s there for ‘em. Simon’s one of those kids, so is your older brother, even though he’s a pain in my side at times. They’re all good in their core— their heart. It’s important to have someone nurture it. Gods called me to do that.”

Though, the relationship strained when the foster system let him go. “He’s just having boy troubles. Boys go through those weird hormones when they hit a certain age. Wants to prove ‘imself as a man. They get real hard headed [+]. He’ll get over it ‘nd pull through. He always does,” she’d say. So certain. Undoubting. Like a sixth sense.

And Simon did manage well enough, clearly, for him to have a proper farm for himself, one that was properly taken care of and thriving. You’d visited with your mom two years back. It was so clear to you now. Your mother practically smothering him in a hug when she got close enough. Simon was awkward at first, but accepted it. His eyes and whole body softing by her touch. She’d been family when no one else would be.

He looked towards you, you met a gorgeous shade of blue, long blonde lashes to match his short blonde hair, face with a few noticeable scars and half his face hidden under a black bandana. You were standing a ways off so you couldn’t hear what he or your mother was saying, but you saw him nod toward you. Your mother saying something and him nodding in response. She waved you over,

“[+] you know Simon— I mean, Mr. Riley since you’re a grown man now, ain’t that right.” She laughed.

“Whatever you want ma’am.” He looks down at you and extends his hand. You take it, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and give it a firm shake.

“Good seein you.” It wasn’t just words, he was sincere, caring. Like seeing an old friend.

You nodded, “ ‘S good seeing you too.”

He showed you the farm after that in his truck. The big house that was farther toward the woods, properly fixed after the fire a decade ago, the Egyptian wheat field, the horses and chickens and the new blue barn he was building to accommodate them, the horse training area used to break in horses no one else would. It was a lot of land, a lot of work, but you could tell by the sound of his husk voice, he was proud of himself and the work he’d been able to accomplish. Even more happy when your mom praised him.

It finally clicked: that barn— and right on time, you’d caught sight of it. Not the one Mr. Riley had been fixing when you visited, the old one. Large and in charge that had old wood, and was definitely falling apart. But you made a bee line for it anyway.

What other option did you have?

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, nerves on a high because you didn’t even notice how close Ghost was to you before you ducked so he couldn’t grab you. Kicking his shin and dashing towards the barn that was bones.

“You damn brat! fuck me!” He cursed, hopping to ease the new pain on his leg before running right after you.

You undid the large wooden latch, sliding the doors open and immediately trying to slide them close. But his hand shot through the opening, a shiver runs down your spin.

Up the steps you went, the only place you could go, and Ghost was right on your heels, quick, almost silent— didn’t call him Ghost for no reason. You tripped and fell on a pile of hay and wild chickens went fluttering and clucking down to the barn floor, clouding your vision. Next thing you knew, Ghost finally caught you. His hands grabbed hold of both of your arms as you rolled around and thrashed underneath him.

“You fuckin asshole! Let me go!” You grunted, trying to kick your legs where the sun didn’t shine but completely missing when the older man closed your legs, gripping them together under your knees in his hands. He had you like a pig about to be roasted.

“You ruin my property but I’m the asshole?” The fucking audacity of you. “Gonna teach you a fuckin lesson cause clearly they don’t teach you city folk manners.”

With ease, Ghost sat himself down on one of the old hay bails, bringing you over his lap. He grunts, keeping you as still as you can, and then like thunder— his large calloused hand comes down to your plump ass, echoing in the empty barn.

“Mr. Riley!” You gasp, your head shoots up, eyes widening— there’s no way- was he giving you a spanking? The next one yanks you out of your thoughts, brutal, harsh, that makes you scream his name again, “Mr. Riley, that’s enough!” But he’s completely ignoring you.

“Spray painting my fences,” SMACK!

“Tryin to egg my house,” SMACK!

“‘Nd Ruinin my fuckin crops?!” SMACK!

“You’ve lost,” SMACK! “you’re damn,” SMACK! “mind! little girl!” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

You’re crying and whimpering, as his hand continues forming ripples in your ass. You’d gotten one singular whopping your whole life, from your grandma for breaking her good vase when she told you no ball throwing in the house. Life altering from one incident that made you into the goodest girl there ever was.

And then there’s this predicament, one that ripped your soul in two. One half fueled with hatred for doing something so crude— so audacious. And then the other that’s struggling to keep itself contained. one more hit that meets your tender bottom, one that hits you in a place you didn’t realize was boiling over— a smack to the ass that forces an egregious moan out of your trembling plump lips.

Simon stills, his eyes flicking over the state of you. You’re shaking, head down and legs finally not kicking. But he sees the way you try to hide yourself further into his lap, because you and he both know you just moaned because of a little whooping.

Oh— you're crazy.

You’d unknowingly created a fire and Simon would add lighter fluid to it.

He lifts the bottom of your short flower patterned dress, just to peak, you jump but still, your heart pounding even louder than it had before. And it’s a sight for the man to behold— your underwear soaked like the damn ocean. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to bring the hands down to hide the slick that was ever growing.

“D-don’t look.” You sniffle. Too damn cute.

But there’s a snicker, something that makes you look back at him and his eyes are shining with mischief, “My god, you’re a filthy lil thang, aren’t’chu?” It’s almost rhetorical, he’s not asking you, he’s asking your cunt. “Didn’t know you city broads were like that, learn somethin new every day, don’t you?”

You yelp when he yanks your underwear down to your knees, thrashing around once again, but Simon keeps you still. Your pretty pussys glistening as bright as sun on water, slick all over your fat second pair of lips. He brushes his fingers against them, sending shivers up your spine, you cant help but arch further into his touch.

You whine, “Mr. Riley-“

“—Shhhhh, gotta hear her,” he murmured, slowly slipping a finger in your drenched hole. Your pussys practically sputtering out with every thrust of his finger, slipping another one and coating it perfectly. He takes them out, sucking up the juices on his tongue that you’ve left on them, spitting down on your hole before stuffing his fingers back into you. He hums in satisfaction as you lose your mind, “such a fuckin slut, you just get this wet for anyone, don’t you?”

Your eyes reach the back of your head, breath hitching, “Nooo, I don’t- I wouldn’t!— ooh- agh- Mr. Riley!” your interrupting yourself with your own moans. Whatever anger you had before, folding into nothing.

He finally let’s go of your hands and you grip on to his leg, nails clawing at his jean cover thighs. Your stomach tightens running away as your orgasm builds but Simon follows, thrusting his fingers into your gummy walls even more, curving them to find your sweet spot with determination.

“Eaaasy now, don’t want to hurt you. Be good ‘nd cum. Know you want to, make a mess all over me darlin’.”

And that’s all it takes, with a twitch and a squeal, your cumming all over his hand. Simon thrusts his fingers a couple times, watching the wave of euphoria wash over you before sucking one of fingers clean, then bringing the other to your mouth.

“Come on, don’t be fuckin uppity, taste it lil girl” he tsked, you take the middle finger in your mouth, tasting your own arousol, swirling your tongue around it. Slowly pulling your head back with a ‘pop.’ It all goes straight to the blondes aching dick.

You hear it, the unbuckling of his belt, your stomach touching the tint that had built because of you. your mind finally snaps out of the trance he’s got you in. You barley manage to get out of his lap, scrambling through the hay, tripping over your underwear, on your as knees. Giving Simon the perfect view of your tender ass and the slick that’s dripping down to your thigh before you turn when you meet a wall. Pushing yourself into it.

“We- shit- someone- someone’ll come!” You ramble out, panting, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm. Your eyes avert to anything in this barn besides the man infront of you. But he made his way over to you, slow, stalking. And once he’s on his knees and hovering above you, he springs his cock from from his boxers. The blonde is hung, large and girthy, his tip strawberry red and leaking pre cum.

He bends down, sliding his fat cock between your wet folds, and then smacking his tip on your clit creating a plap, plap, plap. You can’t help but whimper at the sensation.

“You want it don’t you?” he whispers in your ear, taunting you, goosebumps wave over your skin. “Don’t want me all the way,” he traces over your belly, and then pokes right where your uterus is, “up here, hm?”

“Don’t want me to make you feel good pretty girl? Don’t wanna feel it once?”

Maybe it’s the adrenaline that’s pulsing through you, the way he’s looking down on you like you’re pathetic, dick crazed maniac. And maybe that’s exactly what you are, just once— you just want feel him stir your guts just. this. once.

“I do.”

And your soft voice is just enough for the brute to yank your legs open, Simon throwing your legs over his forearms and spreading your pretty hole open with just the tip. The man starts bullying himself inside the tightness of your pink walls.

He’s big. He’s too big. You hiccup, shoving at his shoulder while he’s splitting you in half, “Mr.Riley, ‘s so much! hicc- can’t. I can’t.”

He croons, slowly thrust more and more of his veiny length into you. “Come oooon city broad, thought you could take it? Don’t go runnin. Been runnin from me alllll this time little girl.”

“Bet you won’t do no shit like that again, ruining my damn property,” Simon hissed, smacking down your clit a few times. “Gonna fuck that nonsense outta that lil brain ‘f yours.”

“I won’t! I promise! Mmmph- I’ll be good! S-so good just for you. Always for you.” You mewled, one hands clawing at the wall behind you and other hand at his shoulder. He finally feels it, his cock reaching the very hilt of you, balls smacking your ass crack. The damn obscene sounds your syrupy pussy is making to keep him inside you, and his tip giving your cervix the messiest and he’s sure, the first kiss it’s ever received.

A baby.

You’d look so fucking sexy, being all plump with his fucking baby. He pushes your thighs back to you head further, jackhammering into your heat rough and mean.

“Five,” he mumbles, groping at one of your tits in his hand. Squeezing and kneading it like a vice.

“Wha-“

“You’ll give me five ‘f ‘em, won’t’cha? Make me a daddy.”

He’s talking nonsense, partially. Simon wasn’t dead set on five, he’d wanted a baseball team but he’d settle for whatever you wanted. One would do if it caused you too much strain. He’d take care of you and the baby, buy you whatever you asked for, have you sat on that back porch, in a rocking chair. Your hand on your full belly, watching him as he worked all lovingly.

Simon breath hitches, rolling his hips into yours with a grunt, fucking drunk at the thought of it. The thought of you, all while your pussy was squeezing on him like you were reading his fucking mind.

“C-christ almighty, I got lucky with you huh? A snug lil cunt like this deserves to be up filled up with my cum.”

You still couldn’t believe it, thee Simon Ghost Riley, was with you in this old barn fucking your brains out like you were fucking Eve in that damn garden, on top of a pile of hay. Both of you letting out moans and groans like animals that you’re sure anyone who stepped foot on property would be able to hear. It’s hot, and sweat is forming on both of your foreheads, your skin is sticky. Simon’s big balls hitting your ass every punch of his tip into you G Spot. both of your eyes hazy, stupid off the other getting off.

“Feel so gooood M-Mr. Riley! So much!” You keen, reach for the bandana hiding his face. He always pushes your hand away but then he remembers what you’re about to be— his lover, his wife— the mother of hic children.

“Mamma’s gotta know the face of ‘er children’s daddy right? pull it off.” And you do, tugging it. And god, maybe this whole ordeal got you lucky.

So damn pretty. A scar on his nose, another one at the end of his pink lips, blonde strands swaying everytime he ruts into you, “Mr. Riley’s sooo pretty,” you slur, talking to him like it’s some secret. You’re lucid in his cock, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure while you stomach coils up.

“Uh-uh, eyes on me city broad, look at me!” He squeezes your cheeks together, planting a fat kiss on your smooshed lips. He snaps his hips forward, and your head would’ve hit the wall from how good you feel. But Simons still got your pretty face in his hands.

“Gonna have ya allll bare foot ‘nd pregnant, waddlin yer cute ass ‘round here with a ring on that finger.” He’s telling you, as if this is already happened and he’s seein it with his own eyes. All you can do is moan at his words. You can’t even form a sentence at this point. Just nodding your ditzy little head while he gives you his dick.

“Gonna be a pretty fuckin mamma too, fu- shit baby, your pretty tits all full with milk for our kin— damn, you love the sound ‘f that dontcha? You can deny it all ya wont, but she’s achin for it.”

God, you are. She is too. You didn’t even know how greedy your pussy was being as he pistoned in and out of you, “Gonna— gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna-“

“-Yeah, thaaat’s it lucky, come all over your husbands cock.”

All you can utter is a ‘s-shit’ when your orgasm smacks you, your toes curling in your converses, thighs shaking in Simons hold.

The blonde gets you in a headlock, smooshing you down into the floor further, brushing your curls with hay out of your gorgeous face. rutting into you as your walls clamp onto him, begging for his all milk he’s able to give you.

Simon growls, and the strings of cum fill your womb. Your clammy bodies are still stuck together as he rocks the last bit of cum into. Mumbling while kissing your neck, “take it lucky it’s all yours. Gotta keep you nice ‘nd full if you’re gonna get pregnant.”

It’s quiet finally. The barn itself is old and creaks but you can hear the chickens right down the steps clucking, the cicadas chirping, the breeze passing through the trees. The only think you hear are his and your pants,

Simon scoops you up in his arms, adjusting your dress to cover the mess he’s created thats dripping down on that barn floor with every steps he takes.

“Mr. Riley, where are we- where are we going?” You hiccup, gripping onto his shirt. All you can look at is him, a little in shock, a little blissed out. The only thing your able to focus on is the handsome man holding you against his chest. The way his heart pounds louder as he looks down at you.

“To the house. It just won’t take after one go.”

a/n: a draft that’s sitting since last month. Luv you bubs. Can’t wait to write more country!simon

most recent masterlist

[lxvvie]

Simon never thought his body was anything special—not really.

He's just keeping fit because it's part of the job, sweetheart, so body worship wasn't on his bingo card when you invited him over for some rest and relaxation.

Well, not his body, yeah?

Your eyes lit up like it was fuckin' Christmas when you saw him. Simon had just gotten out of the shower, hadn't really had time to put his towel on, and what the fuck is it with him losing track of time when he's with you? All Simon remembered was hearing you mutter "Bloody hell..." under your breath (heh, he's rubbin' off on ya) and next thing he knows, Simon's laying on your bed. Naked. Under you. Wait a fuckin' minute—

His mind goes blank when he watches you watch him; you look at him like he's a fuckin' masterpiece, like he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, body hair, cuts, bruises, burns, dents and all, drooling without the drool or what the fuck ever, but shit, it's enough to make Simon's face hot. If he wasn't embarrassed then, he's sure as fuck embarrassed now, and he'd bet every pound he had that knobhead Johnny would have a field day with this.

It's the way you kissed, nipped, and sucked everywhere you could (Christ, you even played with his nipples), making him feel so good, making him feel so bloody seen. Rough skin against your softness, and he's never felt so self-conscious before. You were so damn careful with his latest set of bruises, so fuckin' kind and considerate that he felt his heart jump.

It's the way you ran your hand down, all the way fuckin' down, until it wrapped around his cock. His cock that you're lazily stroking, his cock, hot, heavy, leaking, just... what the fuck are you doing to him?

It's the way you kissed Simon's Adam's apple, soft, gently, and he was afraid to swallow because he thought he'd lose something but he sure as hell felt the goosebumps on his skin and shivers run down his spine.

But it's the coup de grâce, you swopping down to kiss the scar dangerously close to his lips, that shatters Simon completely. Breaks him down so fuckin' much that he's practically holding on to you for dear life. He leans against your touch, wonders what the fuck it would feel like to have your lips against his, and he barely registers the fact that he came, not earth-shattering but a warm blanket over him, and it feels like his very first time.

Fuck, this should've been his very first time.

"Aw, you do turn bronze when you tan, Simon!" He looks down, takes inventory of his tan lines (when has he ever lied to you, sweetheart?), looks up at your beaming smile, snorts, and rolls his eyes. If this were anyone else, he'd probably be pissed that the mood was broken.

It's you, though, and it makes everything feel right.

__

Turning Simon Out series

[merowkittie]

price with his big bulky arm wrapped around your throat, his other splayed across your stomach, and your back is arching painfully up, curving into the older man’s chest. it was like you were made to be there. made to be here, sitting against his chest and taking everything he’s giving you. made to be mewling and drooling over the way his cock curved inside you and hit all the right spots to make your lights go out. and maybe you were made to be here, laying in his arms afterwards as his hands rub up and down your sides, as his lips press kisses into your temple, and his mustache tickles your hairline. maybe you were to be with john price.

[merakidoll]

best friend dad könig had you bent like a pretzel in the passenger seat of a very expensive car. your toes touched the cool window, while your dress was bunched up leaving you out in the open. your knees touched your shoulders, and your nails dug into the leather. “now it’s coming back to you” his rough voice said slapping your pussy then thumbing his way between your folds. köngi drove widely on the empty highway. his sports car sweerving throughout the lanes as he rushed to get back to his home. “you get around my daughter and forget sweet pea” biting your lip, you withheld your moan.

his thick fingers entering you fucking you roughly. könig finally looked to were you sat and smirked at you. “say sorry” he moved his eyes to the road then back to you quickly, scissoring his fingers into your cunt and groaning at the how wet you were. “m-m’sorryyyy” your hole clenched around him, clit throbbing and köngi knew what would follow moment after, so he took his fingers out of you and went back to tumbing over your clit teasingly.

“had plans to spoil my pretty girl tonight. kiss her, eat her pretty pussy, all because we had the house to ourselves and you’ve been so fuckin good for daddy. but of course you fuck. that. up” with each word he delivered a slap to your pussy, basking in your whimpers and murmurs of sorry. “ghost telling me that you were at a club sweetheart? that’s not what i expected as i cooked dinner waiting for you”as he spoke, eyes focused on the road, he slowly pushed two fingers back into you moving them slowly, just feeling your gussy walls wrap around his digits. “then you wear this baby? looking so pretty - but for who?” turning to you he sped up a little, watching you be seconds away from breaking.

your body shook, slob pooling for the side of you mouth and your eyes felt heavy. you tummy was tense, the feeling of your orgasm so close. “who?” he said again, sterner and louder making you jump and squeal clenching down. “YOU!” you cried as you no longer withheld it. squirt came out of you, as you still cried saying sorry. köngi chuckled evilly taking his fingers out and slapping your wet soppy cunt, knowing it would overstimulate you; to which it did.

all you could do was shake and cry. incoherent words failing to making sense to the mean man who had a smile on his face as he continued to play with your puffy tired pussy, all the way home.

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Alpha!Kortac with a new recruit!Reader who's being courted (or attempted to be) by every alpha on base.

All of them try to show off with their various positive attributes, winning fights, showing off conquests, etc.

But then there's König. König takes the time to really truly learn Reader. He learns what reader likes, their favourite scents, fabrics they like, music, everything. He learns it all.

So when heat season comes? On reader's doorstep there's about 20 different scent items, labelled from various alphas.

They're all big blankets, or hoodies, all theirs.

But then there's König's. He brought a box.

It's shirts, all your favourite colours and fabrics, some freshly bought, others from his collection. In the bottom is a fluffy blanket, it's comfortable looking, too. It has a note on it, which reads "Saw this in the autumn and it reminded me of you. I've been making sure to scent it frequently for you." With a little crown doodle. It's from König.

It's not a massive surprise to him whenever he sees you on his doorstep, trying to tug him to your nest, thick with heat smell.

[blond3ang3l]

I don’t agree with cheating at all..

But like imagine neighbor! Price, he knows your husband and isn’t that big of a fan of him at all. Leaving you alone for days on end for “business trips”. Price knew that’s not what he was doing. Your husband was a damn junkie. Running up all you guys money on coke and bottles at clubs.

He had seen him while off duty at a club with Gaz and Nikolai. Blowing your money, the money he had spent without your knowledge, on strippers and the several bottles he had bought in the club.

Price being be good neighbor he was had told you. He felt bad when he saw how your heart practically shattered. You were tearing up and ended up crying into his chest. He brought you back into your house where he stayed with you the entire time. Your tears for your husband was soon replaced with tears for John as he had you splayed out on his lap.

“I know baby, I know. Feels good yeah?”

You could barely get your words out as he rubbed your clit for what seemed like forever while he had you propped up on his lap. Tears pouring down your cheeks as you felt your fourth orgasm hit you.

“So good for me doll, let’s make sure you feel real nice now, yeah?..”💭🎀

[shotmrmiller]

there are two modes to simon. handsy and handsy.

handsy is the gentle hold he has on your wrist when you're watching a movie on the couch, his thumb brushing your knuckles, tracing ever bump and curve. it's a cozy arm thrown over your waist, weighty enough to leave your side sore after, with his leg slid between yours while he snores into your ear after a long day's work. the hand on your knee under the table while eating breakfast, lightly squeezing when you ask him if he wants more.

and then there's handsy. his grip tight around the soft of your waist, fingers creating little divots into your flesh as he tries to slow the pace you've set, feeling his climax too close too soon. it's how he fists your hair and maneuvers your head to the side without much effort while you're on your stomach, the light prick on your scalp only adding to the pleasure, as he mutters into your ear if you can give him another one. (guess you'll die, then.)

how he paws at your arse when he's got you on your knees with your face dug into a pillow as he pistons his hips, the occasional slap of his balls onto your clit making your ears ring and calves tense almost painfully, until he pulls you up, his chest and your back slick with sweat and you come with his one hand around your throat and the other jerking little circles on your stiffened pearl.

the two touches are so different from each other, one a tender thing as if he's afraid to hurt you and the other wanting to hurt, but a different kind of ache, the one he will always soothe with his fingers, mouth and cock.

(call him a triple threat.)

whether you like it or not, you've been conditioned. soft and gentle means affection and care, similar to him bussing the side of your head every morning before work while rough and firm means you're about to be ploughed until you're left to soak in a bath to recover from the onslaught.

and you'd been prepared to take this secret to the grave, to not tell a soul how he'd pulled you out of a pool with enough strength to feel your rear shoulder sting and you'd just about moaned in broad daylight. or how he'd moved you out of soap's trajectory during the first meet by the wrist and if you hadn't been wearing a jumper, your peaked nipples would've been visible to anyone.

but naturally, things never go your way. he'd found out in no time and now he uses that knowledge to his advantage. a quick sneaky fuck in price's bathroom during a barbecue starts with a vicious tug of your arm. getting ate out in the back alley of a pub: giving your thigh a squeeze so tight it could bruise while you sip on the swill you call beer.

and every single time he's pulling your pants down or flipping your skirt up, you're already dripping with want.

now to get him to stop manhandling you like that when the 141 are around.

(soap's left like a deer in headlights after he forcibly sat your tipsy arse down next to him because "LT said to keep 'n eye on ye," and a moan had slipped past your lips unbidden and now the girls boys are fighting someone help)

[darkmemesworld]

Why when im scrolling through a tag i flashed by cho0chie 😦?

All jokes aside i had posted a meme and not even 3 minutes later it got flagged.. and im starting to see a lot of prn bots is it just me???

But why did my stuff get flagged but bots thats are showing naked people still up 🤔

[alanisstonedd]

MDNI - sexual content

an: it’s that time yall…

i need a big boy to love on me like it’s his only job on this damn earth.

the slow ascent over his lap feeling more like mounting a horse. the feel of his strong hands gripping at the plush of your hips. the tug and pull at each others clothes while your lips lock in the slowest, wettest fuck. his scorching tongue in your mouth feels like he’s reaching into you for your soul already and the firm fingers in your hair make sure he gets exactly what he wants.

he can’t help but grind up into your heat on instinct, the slow roll of his hips intoxicating you. the heat spreading through your core and straight up your spine, unable to keep your mouth shut. the rhythmic back-and-forth of humping fully clothed, no time to take any clothes off. his hands sear a path over every inch of skin he can get to, yours content in his hair too focused on rocking your clit over the throbbing bulge in his shorts. a concentrated frown etched into his strong features, sparkling eyes locked on your thrown back head.

his hot mouth going straight for your bared neck, addicted to the taste of your skin. he’s laving at anything his mouth can reach, sucking at your nipples like the feel of them in his mouth alone is enough to make him bust - your whole chest glistening by the time he’s done.

the rushed struggle to stuff yourself with every thick inch he has, clothes still on, mouthing at his lips. him thrusting up into you short and fast, grunting against your collar bone, palms firmly planted on your hips. chest to chest, you can feel every breath he intakes, the outtake fanning over your wet, pebbled, buds. his solid arms caging you in, making damn sure you take everything he’s giving.

he has to back up just to see you in all your glory, pushing at your belly, still canting up into you with no problem. his mouth hangs open in bliss, floored at the the clench of you around him when he man handles you down to the hilt, hitting a spot so deep you think you see tweety birds.

he flips you both over like it’s nothing, his belly up against yours, his pudge and happy trail rubbing your clit just right. the weight he puts behind his thrusts hitting you like a mack truck. it makes you dizzy, the way he’s putting his all into it yet completely unfazed by the way you can’t shut your mouth. his lazy thumbing at your sensitive clit sending you up the wall. he keeps you on the edge for as long as you can stand, heaving breaths into his mouth from the force of his thrusts.

he’s nasty with it, biting at your lips in a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself lingering on his tongue from earlier. he’s flipping into whatever position gets the loudest moans out of you, massaging the plush of your thighs and up your back like that’ll ease the punch of his hips. he heaves into your neck, gripping at you like the heat of you around him is wearing his sanity thinner than is possible.

he don’t care about the mess, the splat splat of the wetness in between you both makes you even wetter, the gush around him calls for teeth biting, groans, and hot tongue on the column of your throat. you moan like you haven’t had a homemade meal in years - the palpable hunger for you that seeps out of him when you buck up onto his leaking dick, is only thing that can quell your hunger.

when you’re on your side, thigh stretched up in his hold, the soft muscle of him envelopes you from behind. he reaches so deep with every thrust you think he can feel how much you need his dick. it overwhelms your senses, his baccarat, your miss dior, and the thick musk of sex

FANUM, price, dadbod!simon, ony

[k1tk4ttt]

[tojisteddy]

Forfeit

or: you and Country!Simon get in an argument and he fucks the anger away.

cw: 3.3k wrds, 18+ mdni, smut with little plot, jealous!simon, no use of y/n, married!reader (to Simon), angry sex, p in v, creampie, cunnilingus, pussy pronouns and slaps, back shots, cowgirl, nipple play, exhibitionism (if you squint), outdoor sex, daddy kink (papa/pa), breeding kink, country!simon, lucky!reader.

a/n: forfeit by Kiana Ledé was my inspo

It’s not that your friends were bad, quite the opposite really, they were great and easily welcomed your husband into the group even though he was on the quieter side. They’d come from the city to congratulate you on the marriage since just your two best of friends came to the wedding.

It was your friend, Vee, her boyfriend that didn’t know his fucking place.

He saw the way you looked at Simon, all heart eyed and yearning for his approval. And Simon’s pretty seafoam orbs would dance all over you, to your pretty face, to your lips to your chest and back to your dark mocha eyes and pretty skin, give you a smile under his skull bandana that no one would understand but you. And Simon would just know you were blushing because you’d look away with smiling harder than ever, squeezing his arm as you continued conversation with your friends—

God, Simon was in love with you. Could’ve done anything for you.

Would’ve beat the breaks off your friends boyfriend if he was alone for a second.

It couldn’t be more obvious that you were a happily married and taken woman. But that stupid bastard couldn’t keep his eyes up, continued to ask about you brushing off Simon, and to top it off you were acting like it wasn’t happening. Still entertaining conversation with him, laughing— giggling.

“Where did you two meet? I’m suprised a city girl like you would move so far just to live in the country.” The fool asked in the middle of conversation, cutting you off from talking about some story from college.

Strike two.

“O-Oh, we’ve known each other since we were younger—“

“—We fucked like dogs right in that old barn when we re-introduced ourselves though.” Simon doesn’t miss a beat. He’s not really one for white lies and he doesn’t care if the truth hurts.

He’ll be as crass as he wants to prove a point. Your friend’s boyfriend, the idiot, was staring too hard. Simon doesn’t mind when people looked, you were as pretty as rain. Curves nice as ever, that jaw dropping smile, pretty brown eyes and curls he loved to play with no matter how long or short. His drop dead gorgeous baby, married to him in the backwoods. Heavy on his.

Heat rushed through your whole body, embarrassment, while your friends squealed in excitement. Your friend Shauna teased, “[+], I didn’t know you were such a naughty girl.”

You washed it down with a sip of wine though, a playful smack to your husbands shoulder— a warning— “Nothins wrong with a little fun. Right Simon?” You emphasized his name. The first time you’d said it all night.

Five and a half times in that barn, but who’s counting?

The wild man gave a cheeky grin, “Course Darlin.”

More squeals from your friends, they thought Simon was right out of a movie. A dream man. He was.

Not when he was acting territorial.

When dinner finally rolled around Vee’s boyfriend, Samuel hate this whore, offered to help. It was the touching that was an issue. The sly touch to your back when he was moving around you, how he kept trying to brush fingers and you’d jerk your hand away— he’d knock the poor boys head off. Simon swooped in of course, told Samuel it’d be best if he sat, ‘let the man ‘f the house handle it’ while wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you a little closer as you held the baked duck in your hands.

strike fucking three.

Thankfully, everyone was tired after their long plane ride down and the wonderful dinner you prepared. You sent them off with a tight smiles and big waves, yelling how you couldn't wait till tomorrow to show them around.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🍀 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Simply put, Simon never liked arguing inside the house.

Didn’t matter if it was cold or raining outside. He’d rather take it on that porch. Get out everything that needed to be said, even if he was giving you a spanking— he didn’t want that energy festering inside the house. Apologizing could be done there or in the house but don’t hold a grudge.

Ever since he’d been with you, the house was truly the definition of one of those wall decorations that said, ‘home sweet home.’ Peaceful, loving, quiet. The method Simon had you two so hung up on, worked.

Any anger or irritation got left at the door. You’re mad? Go for a walk or figure it out on the porch.

You’ve really only had a few arguments since your short time together, little things and could be resolved before they could even begin erupting. Nothing like this, that had you scrapping food off dishes to harshly and putting them in the dish water and washing the poor dishes so roughly.

Simon leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised, bandana that once covered his face sitting on the counter.

“You gonna break the dishes if you keep doin it like that.”

You mumbled, shaking your head, completely incoherent, “Fuck off.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said, fuck off!” you yelled, placing the dish in your hand ever so gently on the drying wrack.

You laugh, nothing but sarcastic, “Why did you have to talk to him like that, huh? He was being friendly! Everyone was havin a good time!”

“Did you not see the way he was talking ‘nd ogling his damn eyes at you the whole night? Son of a bitch acted like he wasn’t looking at a married woman!” Simon scuffed.

“He was not!”

“[+] you can’t be fuckin—“ The older man cuts himself off. Takes in a deep breath— get to that porch. He grits, “Come on, let’s talk.”

You know exactly what he means, you know he really isn’t asking. But you’re unmoving, simply continue the rest of the dishes in the sink.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said, no! How many times do I gotta fuckin repeat myself tonight?! I don’t wanna do your talkin on the porch shit! I wanna finish the damn dishes and go to sleep on my side of the bed! You listen to everybody but me! Your fuckin wife--“ Simon doesn’t let you finish, just manages to get you over his shoulder. The utensils you had in your hand clanging to the floor as you slap at his back, shouting and thrashing to get out his arms.

You land on your feet when Simon puts you down on that hard wood of the wrap around porch. You shove at his chest, “You think you can just move me as you fuckin please, Riley!? I’m a person! A human being!”

“A human bein, I’ll move again if I fuckin want to till you fuckin get it in your big ass head-“

“—I do not!—“

“—You’re big ass head,” he repeated, “that, that idiot was fuckin flirtin with you! Lookin at you like a meal on a silver platter, kept tryin to touch up on you with his own damn girlfriend sitting next to ‘em! And ya went ‘nd encouraged-“

“—Don’t fuckin lie Simon! I would never encourage anyone to- to flirt with me! And the whole night I was lookin at you! Could barely get a handle on myself because I’m hung up on the likes of you!” You poked at his chest. He knew you were right, you’d never do anything like that, not even if the thought graced your mind.

You were a gorgeous little thang, any man with working or non working eyes would fawn over you just from your kindness alone, your pretty voice too. But for someone to do it so blatantly. Do it while Simon was right there. Oh, he hated it.

“Just fuckin admit it, you’re fuckin jealous! I don’t why you wanna pick a fight with me when you should be mad at your damn self for acting like that.”

Oh the unruly thing— to speak the truth on jealousy.

Forfeit the fight and apologize.

Simon’s hands clenched and unclenched, chest heaving up and down— he chose the latter.

Let him show you how you were his and his alone, right on that porch. He’d think of an apology mid fuck, say sorry once or twice and say it again to you tomorrow. Proper, make you breakfast and talk all soft how you like. Make you squirm in your seat with kisses on your neck till you shrug and whisper, ‘I-I guess Mr. Riley.’

Fuck, you were so damn cute. Couldn't keep his hands off you.

Till then, he’d bend you over while he sat in one of the rocking chairs. Hike that pretty white skirt up to your hips while bringing your mushy mess of clothed pussy right to his face.

How’d he do all that so quickly? Well it’s quiet easy when your both a little mad, a little cynical in your own right— so pissed off that you both need to “cool off” your own emotions. Rub one out.

That southern man would yank you close by the hip with his large hand and plant a kiss on your needy two tone lips. Roughly intertwining your mouths, if you’d interject (or tried to get another word out), he’d slap your ass a few times. Enough to get a moan out of you, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up.’ You’ll stumble over to the chair together and he’ll spin you around, do what he has to do.

And God, did he loooove fucking you on that wrap around porch. Whether it be at the end of a long work day or right after the chickens crowed on his day off that had to be spent with you and no one else.

Mouth salivating, Simon ripped apart your white cotton panties in two, with a cut pink bow and embroidered with Mrs. Riley on them, causing you to yelp out, swatting at his shoulder while he spread your pussy lips apart. Staring at the glistening pink mess only he could see, only he could create.

“So gorgeous mama. Ruinin this underwear, who’s all this for?”

He whispers, not to you, not to himself, to God— ‘Thank you for the meal’ he’d give your cunt a sweet peck before letting his flat tongue swallow you whole. Slurping up every drop that came out of you.

“F-fuck you Mr. Riley, seriously fuck you!” You gasped, hand reaching behind you to spread yourself wider.

He groans against you, slapping at your sopping mess once, “Lil girl, I’m tryin,” he flicks his tongue around your hole before sliding two fingers into you. “Therrre you go Lucky, all that damn talkin, just needed somethin in your pretty little hole huh?”

You moan, “Talkin c-cause I’m right! hngh- You’re just- hah- just so hardheaded- aangh!”

Simon thrusts his fingers harsher, sucking at the fingers you were getting wet, then down to your pretty button of a clit. You kick your foot out right when his fingers curl into you juuuuust right, almost falling forward till he wraps an arm around you to keep you steady.

“Stay still baby girl, or you’ll fall.” he gruffs, lapping his tongue every to slowly through your folds.

“Mr. Riley- I can’t! Shit! Augh“ you hiccup, you gut twisting in knots.

“Shhhh Mrs. Riley? Yer bein so loud when me ‘nd her are talkin.” Simon buries his face in your cunt, fingers slamming into creating a loud sloshing of your wetness until he feels you flutter once, his takes a breath away, his voice horse as your syrupy cum trickles down his throat and onto the floor. “This is just what she needs baby, just hush and take it.”

He bites the beautiful fat of your ass before diving back in, slurping and letting his fingers work in and out of you till you’re shattering around his thick digits. Screaming as you wet his face. And Simon swallows it all down. Sticking his tongue in your sponginess of your walls as you clench repeatedly.

Simon pulls away, turning you around while your still in a daze, face wetter than ever with your slick. He pulls you on top of him, springing his aching cock free from the boxers that restrained them, that slaps right at his abs. You rested your head against his, letting the man rub his aching red tip against your hole.

With a slap to your ass, you ease yourself down on him, a pornographic moan of pain and pleasure leaving your plump lips.

“Take this off.” Simon huffs, fingers pulling at the straps of your bralette and grinding up into you.

“Mmph- But Simon i-it’s strange.” You hiccup. You always get so nervous when you two go at it on the porch. His shy baby, he’d remind you that no one, especially at 1 or 2 in the morning, is coming or will ever hear your loud moans. But maybe you’d sound like a banshee if this man got anywhere near your chest. Your nipples had become so sensitive as of late and you didn’t know why.

Simon on the other hand, adored it. Couldn’t get enough when they got all puffy and the way you whined when they hurt. Like music to his ears. But he soothes you, rubs your back and rests his chin on your chest.

“Ain’t strange f’me tuh have what’s mine, is it? Come on, show ‘em to me. You know I looooove how pretty they are.”

You bite your lip, this man could get you to do anything. If this was 10 months ago, you would’ve laughed in your own face if you said you were fucking outside, let alone mindlessly listening to a man. You took off the material holding your breasts, throwing it off to the side.

Simon cups them both in his large hands, groping and squeezing at them, “Pretty tits gonna be filled with milk for our kid soon, huh mama? Can’t wait to see you feedin ‘em. Gonna look so beautiful.”

You moaned his lap, attempting to cover your mouth with the back of your hand as he gave one of your nipples a little suck. Gently taking it between his teeth and nipping at it.

You looked beautiful, your pretty mounds bouncing right in his face while you moved up and down, taking every inch of his veiny cock he was willing to give you. All while he sucked your hardened nipples, looking you right in the eyes. A groan escapes you lips, grinding your hips even harder.

He grunts, meeting you half way and thrusting up into you when your legs began to shake, “Love when I suck on ‘em don’tcha Lucky? Need it to get off.”

You only whimper, eyes fluttering, as you fight your own pleasure. You manage to stifle up a, “Shut up Mr. Riley.” But it does no Justice to the way your rubbing your perfect tits in his face. Begging for more. Wanting him to suck just a little bit more.

“Lil girl, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want, can I?” He tuts, looking up at you with such lust filled eyes.

“Please Si, need you, please?” You keen, letting your nipples rub against his face to feel something, anything.

Simon would give you anything at the drop of a hat, even if you didn’t have any manners, and most definitely if you used that ultra rare nickname with him. He grips your hips, slamming you down on his dick, taking your gorgeous nipples in his mouth and sucking like his life depended on it making you moan. His tongue swirled around your areola, French kissing both of them equally while he rudely bullied his cock through your velvety walls.

Your fingers find his golden locks of hair, running through them while he rams into you, finding your g-spot causing you to squeal, more of your slick dropping past your thighs and onto Simon.

“Fuck me baby, Gonna cum, you want it?”

“Want it so bad Mr. Riley. Nng- Need it all in me.” You whine. Your head falls on his shoulder as he sob his name like a prayer, clutching onto him as your walls tighten around his length, spasming.

“That’s it pretty, that’s it, s-shit.” Simon fills you to the brim, working his cum deep inside you, bouncing you a few more times.

You don’t even know how you got to the floor.

You fluttered your eyes open and Simon had you on your knees, the meanest arch with your back and your face pressed up against the hardwoods floor. Your mixed cum was dripping down to the floor while he smacked his tip against your sloppy cunt. You shuddered at the feeling, mewling in want.

Simon heard your phone ring from his back pocket, he scuffed yanking it out from his pants, just to see that idiot calling you. And probably while his girlfriend was sleep, that fucking cheating bitch. A curse feel from Simons lips.

“Mr. Riley?” You keened, You looked back at him with those big brown eyes, batting those long lashes, a pout adorning your face. You shimmied your ass back on him and he groaned.

Were you too cock drunk to hear your own damn phone vibrate? A devilish grin on Simons face, he’ll get what he wants and fill you up just how you need to too.

He answered it, leaving it on speaker before tossing it in the chair Simon just fucked you in.

“[+]? Are you there?” The stupid prick asks in a whisper, and right then Simon rocks himself into you. Giving your ass a harsh slap before drilling his dick inside your cum soaked walls.

“Fuuuuck- feels so goooood Mr. Riley!” You practically screamed, eyes fluttering shut. That was answer enough, honestly. Your Mr. Riley was fucking you dumber than dumb, your mouth forming a ‘o’ with movement.

“Tell me darlin, who you in love with?”

“M-my huuushband.” you slurred out, drool leaving the corner of your lips, nipples grazing the floor with every harsh thrust.

“And who’s that?”

“Mmmph- you Mr. Riley.”

The ends of Simons lip curve up, such a good girl taking his cock. A white ring forming at the base of his length, “ ‘S that right pretty?”

“I-I love you soooo much papa! More than- hngh- mooore than anything, I swear!”

Papa? New.

He likes it.

Simon snickers at your response, stretching you out so fucking much, and giving you the sluttiest, cruelest thrusts of his life. The loud, smack, smack, smack of your hips colliding could be heard miles away, “Pa loves you too, don’t I, Lucky?”

“So much, fuck, love on me sooo much Pa!” You breath hitched,

And it’s just enough to let that bastard hear exactly what Simon Riley does to you. Simon glances at the phone and it’s already hung up, he's sure the idiots dick got wet from the precious and needy sounds you and your sobbing cunt were making.

Love making was a be-au-tiful thing between a married couple who loved each other, wasn’t it?

Simon bends down, tweaking your nipples in his hands as he rams into you faster, swiveling his hips into you.

His voice is low, gentle, and he whispers right in your ear which makes you tingle all over, “I’m sorry sweet girl, was jealous.”

“I- shit, shit, shit, I know. Mmph- ‘s okay. Love you so much, always want you sooo fuckin much papa.” Your words turn into sobs, tears filling your eyes as you jerk in his arms.

“That’s my girl.” Simon mumbles against your cheek, holding you closer, makes you take his thick cock while he bruises your poor cunt. His hand comes down to your clit, giving it small circles with his thumb, and you cum. Hard. And maybe you were as loud as a banshee, completely soaking the dick that was splitting you cunt in half.

And Simon didn’t stop, fucking you right through your orgasm that seemed to never end.

Simon growls at the feel of your gummy walls, managing to get tighter while he gives you frantic thrusts. Gobbling at your neck while he snaps his hips into yours, kissing your cervix with his leaking tip. Grunts and moans of ecstasy fill the star fill sky as you two cum. Ropes of cum leaking right into your womb, just as you needed.

A good filling.

Simon pats your stomach, “That’s right where our babies gonna go Lucky. Promise, tonight a baby's gonna be right in there.”

You giggle, eyes low and dazed, “G-gonna make you a real Daddy, Mr.Riley.”

“Yeah,” he swoons breathlessly. Kissing the apple of your cheek making you giggle again. “Can’t wait to see our pretty baby sweetheart.”

a/n: this was a request so lmk what you think bubbas (I know it wasn’t that icky but idk I still think it’s cute). Also @bunnybeaches proofread for me so thank you so much🥺 I luv you.

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