lustjunkiie

[lustjunkiie]

TF141 WHEN YOU CALL THEM BY THEIR FIRST NAMES…

For the first time.

a/n, is this even anything? not proofread

SIMON:

“Aye dare ye!” was all you heard before challenge won over logic and you were off the couch in a second. Ignoring the Scot behind you egging you on, and in search of your broody Lieutenant.

Finally! There he was. In the armory cleaning gear by himself. You felt a pang of guilt for ruining his solitude but Johnny’s words kept echoing in your mind. How horrible that you were so susceptible to his little ‘dares.’ Well, horrible for you. Amazing for Johnny.

You opened the door to the armory, slipping in. Ghost gave you a brief look, unreadable as always. Like he didn’t expect you to be in there for him.

“Need sum’n?” He gruffed out, only looking minimally annoyed at your presence today.

“Yeah. I’m glad I found you, Simon—” He didn’t even allow you to finish your sentence before he was chest-to-chest with you, glaring down at you like you’d cursed his bloodline.

“And where t’fuck d’ya find that name, hm?” He asked, chest heaving slightly.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Johnny! This whole thing was Johnny’s idea,” you laughed, albeit nervously, and he grunted and pushed past you, walking off to surely rip Johnny a new one.

JOHNNY:

It all started as a silly idea. Something that you conjured in your mind, causing your lip to curl into a soft smile. And getting the go-ahead from Kyle? Oh, yes.

Little did you know.

“Aye, hen!” Johnny smiled enthusiastically as he saw you enter the communal kitchen, making some tea right alongside him. “How are ye’?” You smiled softly at his bubbly demeanor, amazed at how he does it everyday.

“‘M tired, Johnny,” you whined, and his eyes snapped to yours. Like you’d just grown another head. And then, he smirked. Smirked. Like he was enjoying this.

He hooked a meaty arm around your neck, laughing in a rough Scottish brogue and ruffling your hair.

“Y’callin’ m’ Johnny, aye? Like y’wanna be m’ li’l birdie? Like y’wanna moan it when I gotcha under me,” he winks and you audibly gasp — shoving him off of you as he cackles until he doubles over.

KYLE:

“Kyle Garrick!” You snap, and he hears it over the music pumping in his ears. He was enjoying the early morning run: crisp, autumn London air filtering through his nose and his lungs, his body thrumming with adrenaline.

Now, even more so.

“‘Scuse me?” He’s taken his headphones out now, shoving them in their case and running backwards to meet you where you stand. God only knows (and barely, at that) where you found the courage to get off calling your Sergeant by his government name, but now, as you see how he roams your body with stormy eyes, you’re regretting it just a little bit.

“I was just going to say.. you didn’t wait for me to tie my shoe.” And Kyle is appalled at your words. Hands in the air, mouth agape and eyebrows raised. Before you can process the fact, his hands are digging into the fabric of your shirt and he has you pressed against a tree.

“Y’called me by my fuckin’ full name for some bullshit like ‘at? Yer lucky I don’t bite yer head off.” Truthfully, you didn’t expect him to be so upset, but he was. You could only make him tea that evening as an olive branch.

Unbeknownst to you, no one called him Kyle. No one except his Captain. And it was off limits to you.

PRICE:

It’s an accident, really. It’s a result of a bomb slowly ticking, and a wire cut haphazardly. Someone stepping on a touchy landmine, and the whole place blowing to smithereens.

“Don’t argue with me, damnit! I am your Captain and I decide the route we take and any criticism can kindly be shoved elsewhere!” He yells, slamming an authoritative hand on the table. Usually the ever open-minded one, he’s denying you that pleasure now. Taking the Captain title by the reigns and running with it.

“If you would just listen! I think we could do something with my idea. I understand I’m new, John, but fuck!” You’re so caught up in suffocating on his tyranny that you don’t clock his reaction for a few seconds. He’s still, dangerously still. Like a lion waiting out it’s prey in tell grass. No one calls him John, not since his mother died, and he’s not even sure how you got ahold of that name.

“It’s ’Captain,’ to you,” he says lowly, the rest of the team having left you to fend for yourself. “Or Price. But never John.” He looks up at you, and you’re nervous now. Like he’s already written up the transfer papers in his mind.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper but he cuts you off with a head shake and a placating hand in the air.

“No, luv. It’s fine. Just caught me off-guard is all.” He says, staring off into the distance like something long dormant and aching has risen inside of him. You gently gesture with open arms, and he’s in them within the minute.

Crumpled down to a grieving man, with a single word.

[lustjunkiie]

butch price x reader

cw: smut, pussy eating, fingering, bush huffing, mean price, mechanic price, freak reader, inferred as inexperienced reader (as a treat!)

thank u as always to the cloisters for cheering this series on and yapping away about butches to me. here’s the fourth & final piece of the butch love letters quadrilogy

you huffed and puffed as you paced back and forth in front of the smoking open bonnet of your shitheap car.

you were cursing your friend for convincing you to get the cutesy car over the scuffed up ford you’d seen on the secondhand marketplace the same day. that tin can wouldn’t have broken down on you unexpectedly like this; stuck in the middle of nowhere as the sun set with no reception to call triple a or even your dad for a bit of engine advice.

you’d opened the hood as soon as you’d pulled over but you had no clue what was wrong with it, just that it probably shouldn’t be smoking or hissing like that. you’d tried to take a look at the canister that was spitting bubbles at the cap but had forgotten the golden rule of Don’t Touch, Hot after you’d been driving. your fingers still ached a little from the burn.

one hand on your hip, you held your phone up with the other like it would help at all as you tried to call for help again. the hazard lights from your car were starting to become brighter than the natural light and the streetlights were dim and far apart, not offering much in lieu of the setting sun.

you really didn’t want to be stranded there for the night.

you’d ignored the cars that had passed earlier when you’d first pulled over, not expecting to need an extra hand when your paid-for car support would be arriving presumably swiftly after you called. and then when you’d realised it wouldn’t be so easy, you’d hoped that simply letting your car cool off a little would fix the issue enough to get you further down the road at least.

you’d sat behind the wheel once more and felt your stomach drop when the engine rolled; a mean, dry grinding noise coming from it instead of the usual purr.

you’d tried once more before pulling your keys free and glueing yourself back to your phone as your last hope. you knew there was no way you’d be able to walk for help, especially not with how long you’d waited and how dark it was quickly becoming.

short of a miracle, you’d be stuck there until someone passed by in the morning and could maybe tow your little fiat to the nearest garage.

the rumble of a bike had your spiralling thoughts stopping in their tracks and your head snapping up towards the road. you felt your eyes widen as the rider pulled over, stopping a little ways behind you.

they climbed off the impressive bike easily, thick thighs nudging it to stay in place as they nudged the kickstand in place, and removed their helmet.

you wondered for a moment if you’d managed to hallucinate the woman stood before you - a miracle after all - with her close cropped hair glittering with greys spattered throughout. you stared shamelessly at the clustering of them at the shaved sides, but wondered at the way the low light caught the peppering of them through the messy, longer trim on the top.

“what’s the problem?” the woman asked, her voice firm but light.

you swallowed thickly and dragged your eyes down to her face, not that it was a difficult task to look at her. she was gorgeous and you felt your knees knock as you watched her come closer.

her sarcastically cocked eyebrow reminded you that you’d not yet answered her and you cleared your throat before shyly shrugging.

“it just started smoking so i pulled over. couldn’t tell where it was coming from but the engine won’t start,” you said and stepped out of the way so she could have a look. her lips thinned as she carefully dug around inside. you felt the need to fill the sudden silence and stepped back to her side, your hip pressed to the car but still giving her enough space so you weren’t touching. “it had been hissing for a while before.”

“hissing?” she asked as she looked up at you, her hands veering towards the left at your confirmation.

“mhmm. for maybe the last mile or two,” you said sheepishly.

“you kept driving?” she asked with a tinge of judgment. you folded your arms in front of you as you felt the look wash over you.

“no lights came on the dash,” you said a little feebly.

she blinked slowly, as though processing what you’d said before turning back to the car.

you had the distinct feeling that she thought you were an idiot. you dug your fingers into your arms as you watched uselessly. maybe you were.

“y’radiators gotten too hot with no water, cracked the water tank. it’s no wonder the engine wouldn’t start, y’wont be able to drive it ‘til it’s fixed, could set the engine on fire,” she said as she pointed out the things she was talking about. she stood back up straight and turned to you as your heart sank.

“fuck,” you swore heartily and clenched your eyes shut. that sounded expensive.

“i know a local garage that can sort it for you, decent rates,” she offered, her voice a touch softer than it had been so far. “i can give you a lift too.”

you opened your eyes just in time to watch her nod to her bike and start walking.

“oh, i don’t know if i should leave my car here…”

“we’ll call up a service to collect it as soon as we’re in range, won’t get any signal out here,” she said and pulled out a spare helmet from the back of her bike as if it was already decided, you were just late to the game. she pulled her own on with practised ease and held out the other towards you with a tilt of the head.

you darted back to your car and grabbed your bag before turning off the hazards, locking the door and finally joining her. you introduced yourself and waited for her to do the same.

“you can call me price,” she said brusquely, not returning your smile.

not the friendly introduction you’d been hoping for, but you were grateful for a name to put to the face all the same.

price didn’t hesitate before pushing the helmet onto your head, knocking your chin up with her finger in order to clip the strap in place. you stood frozen as she straddled her bike, lost for a moment at the unexpected touch and not seeing the impatient nod of her head to the space behind her.

“haven’t got all night, love. are you getting on or not?” price snapped, eyes flinty as they stared you down beneath the open visor.

“right, yes, sorry,” you stuttered, scrambling to her side. you paused at the height of the bike, the length of your summer dress not allowing for much movement before you’d inevitably flash your saviour; but at the memory of her sharp look, you tried to balance yourself and quickly lift your leg over the seat.

you were conscious of your size and weight behind her as soon as your arse hit the leather, shuffling back to give her room. you ran hot at the best of times and you couldn’t imagine she’d like a heater pressed along her back for the ride ahead given how testy she’d been already.

balancing behind her without clinging on was tricky however, with your toes just scraping the ground to keep you in place. even with your grip on her jacket at her waist you didn’t feel particularly sturdy.

you saw more than heard her sigh as her shoulders lifted then dropped in front of you and then suddenly her strong hands were on your thick thighs as she tugged you forward, slotting you so you were cradling her hips flush against your own.

“you need to hold on tight,” she said plainly and tugged your arms around her sturdy middle, tightening your grip further with a scoff when you automatically loosened it once she’d let go. you clenched your hands together above her belt and finally it seemed you’d done something right as she set off, kicking the stand up and revving, checking the empty road as she pulled out.

your dress fluttered in the wind; never mind flashing her as you’d climbed on, you would definitely be giving her a show now if she had the mind to look down and back at you. but you were too busy to fuss with the flighty material, instead concentrating on staying attached as she took corners sharply, dipping and weaving and tilting the bike so you’d have to clench your legs tighter and tighter against hers.

every time your knees felt like they could touch the asphalt, you hid your face in her back as best you could with the bulky helmet hindering your way, but you could still feel the way her shoulders shook with a laugh. you were inclined to pretend it was just the rumble of the engine, but you were more than aware of the difference in vibrations at your core and although both had you squirming, you knew they weren’t one and the same.

the ride was short - a blessing and a curse - and soon you were pulling up to a garage; lights turned off and clearly closed for the evening.

you felt disappointment bloom as you stumbled off the bike but price didn’t let it linger. unlocking the garage door and pressing a button on the attached fob to send the shutter lifting. she pushed her bike inside and you followed without needing to be told.

you stood near the entrance as you watched her walk around, clearly familiar with the workshop. you let your gaze drift, taking in the few cars parked inside the sprawling space, hoods down and doors presumably locked while they weren’t being worked on, tools packed away at their stations not necessarily neatly but clearly with care.

a hand on your lower back had you jumping and you turned to see price at your side, ushering you further in until you were sat on a tall stool next to a workbench.

you noticed as she walked away that she’d taken off her jacket and your eyes caught on a tattoo on the outside of her bicep, a labrys. simple in its design, and clear in its message.

you tried not to stare too hard, but your eyes kept snapping back to trace the lines that made up the two headed axe, especially as she moved and her bicep bulged. your throat felt suspiciously dry all of a sudden.

you played with the little orange carabiner attached to your bag strap, your keys jingling softly in the silence of the garage.

price was at the other side of the room, head leant against her raised shoulder to keep her phone in place as she spoke into the receiver and wrote something down at the same time. you saw her frown and roll her eyes and bit your lip, heat pooling below your gut. you watched as she said something indistinct before hanging up and calling a new number.

you felt yourself grow fidgety and sat on your hands to keep yourself still, the solid wood seat sobering with how unforgiving it was against the back of your hands as your palms and fingers gripped the underside of your sweaty thighs.

price laughed across the room and you tuned back in to her conversation. “l

“sure, i owe you one nik. see you in a few then,” she said and hung up her phone, slipping it into a pocket. she turned to you and her lips twitched when she found you already watching her. “found someone that’s going to tow it tonight, just need to wait here to lock it inside safe and sound before the lads can work on it in the morning. shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours before he turns up.”

“amazing, thank you,” you said, gratefully smiling at her. you swallowed and gathered what confidence you had before speaking, putting on your best flirty tone, “i don’t know how to repay you for all of this.”

price paused for a moment and watched you closely, seeming to look for something in your face to decide how she’d respond even as amusement danced in her eyes.

“i’m going to check over a few cars, make sure they haven’t been getting lazy with the work here while i’ve been away,” she said finally, ignoring your clumsy almost-proposition. you scrunched your face in annoyance and regret once she’d walked off towards the key cabinet facing away from you, wanting to bury your face in your hands as it flushed hot in embarrassment but realising they’d gone a little numb when you slipped one out from beneath you.

you could still feel it as you curled your fingers, but it was almost distant, secondary.

an idea came to the forefront of your mind. you peeked up at price as she bent over the open hood of a stranger’s car, checking the notes one of her coworkers had left from the day before and you were suddenly flooded with a deep yearning. tumultuous and red hot, it stirred between your legs as you remembered price’s firm hold on your thighs and wrists and the feeling of her settled between your legs as she laughed and ordered you around.

you breathed in shakily and let your tingling hand rest on your knee, trailing it up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh slowly as you kept your eyes on price. the last thing you needed was her catching you even if the touches could be considered innocent so far.

watching to make sure she didn’t suddenly turn around to catch you also mean you could see the shift of her muscles and weight beneath her vest; a sight you’d never say no to and one that only caused your breath to hitch as you continued the trail to the hem of your dress.

you stopped and bit your lip, unsure if you wanted to continue. it wasn’t like you’d be able to get yourself off in the middle of the garage so it would only further frustrate you and the possibility of getting caught and having to awkwardly face price the next day to get your car back after it was fixed was mortifying enough to still your trembling fingers.

“looks like you’re not the only one with a cracked water tank,” price spoke up from her spot in front of the car. her hands were on her hips before she dragged one over her short hair, scratching at the freshly shaved base of her neck. “i’ll check to see if we have a few in stock, might make it a quicker fix for you if johnny already ordered some in for this one.”

you nodded even though she didn’t look at you and you pulled your other hand out from beneath your arse. your right hand hand gained its feeling back so you dropped it in your lap; the left however was fighting pins and needles as you ran it over your stomach to your chest, squeezing lightly at your breast as shame and excitement and lust flooded through your system like lightning. your eyes slipped closed for a second and even though it felt nothing like price’s confident, sturdy grip from earlier, you couldn’t help but picture it to be her as you grazed your thumb over your nipple with a firmer pressure.

“we’ve got a spare one in stock, so we just need to double check it’ll fit, but otherwise it should be good to go tomorrow unless something else comes up when gaz checks it over.” price’s voice jolted you out of your reverie too soon, having not heard her re-enter the room, and your hand flew down to join your other in your lap, your elbow smacking back harshly against the worktop and echoing in the large empty area.

price raised her eyebrows at you, her jaw falling slack for a moment, as she watched you try to hide your deep wince of pain. a second later she started to walk over to you.

her pale blue eyes were piercing as she kept eye contact with you. “you alright?”

“yep, fine. totally ok. uhm, why?” you tried to play it off casually, landing so far from nonchalant it had price’s worry slipping off her face.

her smirk grew. “y’just smacked your elbow so hard i could hear the bone rattle.”

“oh, sorry?” you apologised uselessly.

“no need, love,” she dismissed your apology quickly, eyes still lasered in on you. “it’s just… you’re looking a little hot and bothered.”

the mean tilt to her smirk didn’t help and you felt yourself fluster and sweat anew under her pinning gaze.

she took a step closer, reaching one hand out to skim across the bare skin of your leg, unknowingly tracing the same path your hand had before. your legs turned to jelly beneath her touch in a way they didn’t under your own and seemed to naturally fall open at the slightest pressure as she urged you to make room for her to step between them.

her fingers’ path stopped at the hem of your dress before she started to bunch it up, letting the material gather at her knuckles as the tips of her finger disappeared beneath while she revealed more soft skin to her greedy gaze.

“were y’committing the view to memory for when you get home and can get your hands on whatever little toy gets you off quickest?” she asked rhetorically, her tone light but words pointed as she watched for your reaction.

you bit back a gasp.

“i can give you what you want,” she offered, voice sweet and soft once more. enticing. “what you need. you don’t have to squeeze your thighs tight for a little relief as you watch me work.”

you flushed hot at the reveal that she’d noticed you all along and shivered as her fluttering touch continued its agonisingly slow path, diverting up to your hips and away from your drooling pussy at the last second. you whimpered.

“would you like that?”

you nodded eagerly, eyes hooded and mouth panting as you watched her hands at their stand still, your panties revealed with your dress hiked up so far, taut where it was caught beneath your arse. you lifted your head to stare at her chest in front of you and then looked up into her flinty eyes, nodding again dumbly. price tutted and you felt your clit throb.

“gotta hear the words, love.”

you flushed hot, head to toe, and mumbled a shy, “i’d like that.”

“mm what was that?” she asked, cocking her head and running her hands, palm flat, back down your legs to your knees, squeezing.

“i want you to touch me,” you said louder, bashful but growing desperate. “please?” you added belatedly.

“‘please’? so polite, love. bet you always get what you want speaking like that, looking like this.”

your eyes had begun to water, glistening as frustration and need overwhelmed you; you shook your head looking up at her.

“never— never done anything like this,” you admitted.

price laughed, tickled by your answer.

“oh, you don’t fuck your mechanic usually?” she asked, pretending to be shocked. “he must not be doing a good enough job on your little kia.”

you hummed, pitchy and unconvincing, eyes growing shifty and giving away that you meant you didn’t do any of it in general. that you weren’t exactly practiced. and price picked up on that immediately.

“oh.” she smiled meanly. “that’s not it, is it? no, i bet he’s floundering for your attention, but you’re just too nervous to give him what he wants, ey? don’t want your first time to be in a dirty garage, in the back seat of some other prick’s car while your mechanic fumbles around in your knickers.”

she’d bent down low to run her lips along your neck, kissing along your neck and leaving a delciate wet trail as she kitten licked across your racing pulse. you gasped when you felt her fingers finally trail over your cunt, the thin material of your panties barely hindering the electric feel of her touch before she pulled at the band and let it snap back against your skin.

“but i think getting dirty is part of the appeal for a girl like you, pretty as you are. you want to be manhandled and marked and ruined,” she whispered hotly, her breath tickling your neck. “nahh, must be that you’re just not interested in what’s been on offer before, hm?”

“he’s nice enough,” you admitted, clinging onto price’s shoulders, “but…”

“—but he’s not what you want,” she finished for you, raising her head from your neck to kiss along your cheek and hovering over your lips. “none of them are, are they? you want something else entirely.”

you leant forward to close the gap, hoping to finally get a taste of her but she pulled back. you chased her lips until she was stood back up straight, looming over you as embarrassment flooded through you again, but pleasantly.

“bet you’ve never been touched before; never had this pretty pussy licked open, spat on.” you felt your chest heave as she spoke bluntly, looking down at you, her hips began to subtly grind against yours. “have you ever even cum on someone else’s fingers?”

“i have,” you huffed at her assessment of you, but she only laughed at your petulant tone.

“no, you haven’t,” she insisted to further wind you up. “bet you’ve not even kissed another woman.”

your breath stuttered as she focused on your lips, licking her own.

“i want to kiss you,” you said bravely.

“that’s all you had to say.”

she dipped low, hands on the worktop either side of you, and licked her way past your gasping lips. you felt overwhelmed and fully explored as the tip of her tongue flicked at yours, saliva building in your mouth as you moaned wantonly and soaked up her quiet grunts in return. she tugged you up onto your feet and in between wet kisses and tight squeezes to your soft hips she led you towards her office in the back.

you made it to her desk with minimal tripping and no bumps on your way despite not having detached to see the way there. instead you’d clung on and trusted she wouldn’t lead you into a wall or car accidentally as she hurriedly felt up your sides to your breasts.

she encouraged you to sit on the edge of the desk and plucked at one of your nipples through the thin dress with a teasing grin.

“feel better than your own hand?” she asked and dropped to her knees before you could answer.

with rough movements price hiked up your dress to reveal your panties and leant forward without hesitation to latch on to your clit through the thin cotton, eager to get you squealing.

she laughed at the restless twitch of your hips in her hands and turned her head to snicker into the fold of your thigh and groin.

“you’re more fun than i thought a virgin would be,” she goaded, eyes heavy as they gazed up at you. you fell for the bait, scoffing down at her with a pout once more as your hand rose to her short hair and yanked what your could grasp to lead her back towards your drooling cunt. you winced when her teeth clashed against your core as she grinned into your panties, endlessly amused by your brash urges hidden behind a forced shy politeness.

price reached up and tugged the material aside to lick a broad stripe up your slit, humming low at your taste and the building slick that had been steadily leaking since she’d first frowned down at you in condescension in front of your car.

“needy an’ desperate,” she huffed before focusing back on task, kitten licking at your clit as you gasped and whined. it felt like you were on fire and you couldn’t help but push up onto her tongue with jerky little thrusts when she dipped low to your hole, desperate for her to keep berating and humiliating you.

she pulled back with a wet suck and a gasp, pushing two fingers into you with no resistance as she caught her breath and licked your arousal off her lips.

she stared up at you as you shook on her fingers, practically doing all the work as you rode her hand until she decided the pace wasn’t good enough and picked up where she’d let you take over.

“fucking hell,” she whispered and nipped at the fat of your thigh. you clenched down on her fingers with a groan.

“please, please, please,” you begged airily. price smiled as she looked you over, head to toe, before nodding benevolently and dipping down to lavish your clit with attention once more.

you felt your orgasm begin to peak and wave over you with a loud, unashamed moan as she curled her fingers just right inside you, the awkward angle of her wrist doing nothing to slow her down as she prolonged your pleasure until you slumped back. spent and exhausted.

“better than your own hand?” she asked cheekily once more and you nodded dazedly.

“uh huh,” you said, remembering she liked verbal answers, and lifted a tired thumbs up at her.

she snorted and took a hold of it, pulling you up just enough to get your hand down the front of her open jeans and into her own soaked underwear.

you moaned as she guided you to slip inside and you clenched your thighs around her as if it was your own pleasure as you slowly sunk in deep. price groaned low and long, curling over you and humping against the heel of your hand where it pressed against her clit.

you weren’t as confident or practiced in your movements from this angle but you did you best to pull out those dazed moans and hitched breaths from price when you moved your fingers and your palm a certain way, repeating until you got the reaction you wanted oh so desperately from her.

price was panting into your neck after a few minutes, the skin between you clammy and you echoed her moans back to her without thought.

“w-warm, so tight,” you stuttered into her ear as you felt her clench around your fingers, nearing her own orgasm as slick ran down past the webbing of your fingers.

your enthusiasm turned price on like nothing else and she shuddered at the next prod and rub of your fingers deep inside of her.

“fucking hell, love,” she swore breathlessly, a grin tugging at her lips as she pulled back to look at your fucked our expression. “got you pussy drunk in under ten minutes and we’ve not even fucked yet. that’s a record even f’me.”

you crooked your fingers and felt a deep satisfaction when price’s jaw dropped on a silent moan, eyelashes fluttering down at you.

you watched her in awe; the way her crows feet became pronounced as her eyes squinted and her brows pulled in in pleasure, the shape of her pretty parted lips as she trembled in your hands.

“i wanna taste,” you blurted out, voice cracking with how dry your throat had become.

you struggled to free your hand and push price back a step as she grumbled, but you got enough space to hop down off the desk and drop to your knees in front of her. you yanked at her jeans without fanfare, wiggled the waistband and her underwear down to her knees before going wide-eyed at the sight of her thick bush.

feeling the soft curls against your fingers was one thing…

you leant in with abandon and pressed your nose in tight, huffing open-mouthed against her mound. soaking in the sweat, slick scent of her and moaning weakly into the damp curls.

“jesus fucking christ.” price tipped her head back and silently thanked whoever was listening for the enthusiastic little freak she had at her feet. she didn’t deserve you, but she wasn’t going to pass up this golden opportunity either.

your hot breath had her thighs twitching where you rested your hands over her pants to keep her still, but her patience ran thin.

“get to it then, love.”

you flicked your eyes up to look at her and she rested one hand on the back of your head, controlling and reassuring.

you started with little kitten licks, needing coaxing ever so into loosening your restraint despite the reckless way you’d just face planted her pussy moments prior. a firm hand or a sharp word would have you set right, you knew, so you continued as you were, trying to remember what you’d liked and copying it.

price didnt wait to see if you’d warm up on your own and used her other hand to tug at your jaw, prising your mouth open further and encouraging your tongue to wag out.

“tongue,” she ordered brusquely before grinding against your face. you got with the program and pointed your tongue so it slipped inside easier, gripping onto price’s arse and thighs as she rode you with little concern for your breathing.

you sucked and hummed against her, lapping at what you could reach when she adjusted her angle before continuing to use you. your nose pressed tight to her mound and caught on her clit on every other thrust up until price was moaning into the air above you, her orgasm quickly rising.

she pulled back and held you away with one hand while the other gave a few hard flicks to her clit. she got off with a broken moan, looking at your wet, messy face; arguably more fucked out than her own. her eyes caught on the hand you’d dropped to finger at your clenching hole again and she groaned, low and amused. fond.

with a breathless laugh, she tugged up her waistband back to her hips but left the jeans unzipped. she pushed her boot between your spread knees, beneath your hips and pushed down on your shoulders until you were resting over the tilted toe of her boot.

you were quick to get the idea and pulled your fingers free, thrusting to catch your clit against the unforgiving material until you came a second time, leaving a thick shine along her shoe when she pulled it back.

you panted against her hip, forehead resting against her just above her open waistband as you caught your breath with a giddy smile. you nibbled and sucked at her stomach as she pet the back of your head.

“don’t usually let girls mark me,” she said softly under her breath as she watched you. she rubbed at one of the the budding red marks you’d left near her zipper. “but I’m quite fond of you after that little performance. might keep ya.”

butch 141 masterlist

moodboard masterlist

[lustjunkiie]

i love all women, but only big dudes. sorry twinks. something about a big, hairy man that needs to catch his breath during sex that just calls to me

[lustjunkiie]

ᥫ᭡ Most fun to edge from most to least ⨯ 141 Edition (18+)

Johnny—Absolute brat behavior. Deserves to be edged for days when returning from a deployment only to have his fat prick put in a pink cock cage in between edging sessions. He needs it to come (literally) back to his senses before he can even function right. Very whimpery and whiny. Make sure to put down sex towels (plural), because this man leaks copious amounts of pre. Longest he lasted before mewling his safe word and begging you to let him come was eight days. He's very determined to break that streak.

Simon—Took him a while to realize how into it he actually is. This man, who's usually so eerily quiet during sex (except for the occasional grunt or groan when he first slides in), becomes an absolute whore when you edge him for longer than 30 minutes. Moaning, keening, whimpering. Serves a whole new palette of sounds to you. Watch this absolute unit of a man crumble while you sit between his trembling thighs, stroking his big cock with two hands; ghostly skin sticky with sweat and musk, tip drooling milky pre down your knuckles. He's also the cutest to ask for a session—comes crawling into your lap and flutters his pale lashes up at you with a prominent tent in his pants.

Price—The old man doesn't believe in edging, doesn't see the appeal of it until you make him. Like his sex to be old-fashioned and vanilla, actually, but whenever he tells you he's tired, it's code for please take care of me, lovely—so you do. And each time, you have to tie his wrists up to the headboard to really make him submit to you, before you get to edge him good. Doesn't last long before he half demands/half begs you to let him come. It's always a treat, but a rare one.

Kyle—Man's an interrogations and negotiations specialist. One of his hobbies is actively pissing you off until you're laugh-crying—but in a fun way, not a toxic one. Kyle is also the most dominant one of the pack, so he prefers to be in control. Once every full moon, he will let you have your fun for a while, but only because he loves to turn the tables and talk you into caving in, uttering the most delicious filth in that slightly breathless, sexy voice of his—until you end up being the one edged to tears.

[lustjunkiie]

it has been brought to my attention that another tumblr account has copied my blunt!simon fic that i posted about a bit ago. the account is @angel-z-xdx

the first two is my fic! which was posted may 16th

and this is the account that copied my post word by word

[lustjunkiie]

ALL OVER ME: ONE SHOT

pairing: roommate!VA!johnny x roommate!fem!reader

summary: finding out that your flatmate johnny is a porn voice actor wasn’t exactly surprising. what astonished you was the amount of nasty ass content he had on his reddit.

"[...] "'m too fuckin' horny today and my flatmate didnae want tae help my situation..." there's a small pause and a long, whispered curse with some fabric rustling in the background. then, the distant sound of sticky squelching, slow and steady – teasing, tempting. "she– uh... she's a fuckin' wee tease," he starts, some small gasps making their appearance in between his words."

genre: smut (MDNI), non-military au, fluff | wc: 10.060

warnings: johnny is a reddit va, crosses and catholicism mentions, 'friends-to-lovers', not slow burn but they yearn a bit, drinking, explicit sexual content: p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, voyeurism and exhibitionism mentions

a/n: main masterlist.

You’ve known Johnny for long enough so that you can make out the spectrum that is his persona – or, better, make out his personas.

When he moved in with you it was supposed to be temporary, only a few months before he found a place for himself, but that extended to a year and now you’re reaching almost two years living with him. He was a total stranger, you met him one Wednesday night while you hung out with a few friends that ended up grouping with his friends at one of their houses and that’s how he got into your life.

He was kind and polite from day one, a bit overwhelming at times but you soon grew used to his overcaring demeanor. You soon learned that he actually wasn’t nice to everyone, which made you feel a bit special and definitely more open to receive his loving gestures. He was so easy to have around, despite you sharing a home – which can be challenging – he was always understanding and tried his best to find a way in between your wishes and his like a true well educated, respectful man – you thought his future wife was a lucky woman.

You always assumed that Johnny’s politeness and well-behaviour must be products of a rigid, catholic education, both at home and at school. It wasn’t hard to guess, he whispered small prayers before eating, he had a cross chain he didn’t take off for nothing and he’d, from time to time, bless you and your day – a small greeting just to make sure his fondness is known. His personality was a big mix of random things, his playlist itself was all over the place – from uk rock to american pop girlies – and, when you realized he had a lot of different facets, you thought maybe it’d be hard to take him in.

But it wasn’t, you got used to it – the flirtiness and the “don’t fuck with me” vibes, all of it. He has always been so polite with you and so kind, sharing an apartment with him never proved to be a bothersome experience – quite the opposite, actually – and you managed to settle in a quiet, nice coexistence right at the first month or so since he moved in.

You usually talked about all sorts of things, though not that personal, you still talked about your childhoods, college times and your current works – and that’s when you learned that he actually has two jobs. You did the grocery shopping together when there were things lacking around the house, you cleaned the house together every Sunday morning, sometimes you even went to the gym together. Despite you never acknowledging it – at least not out loud –, you like to think you’re friends and that you can count on each other, that you were close enough to have a stable, housemate friendship.

Oh, how wrong you’ve been.

After some nights with his friends over and some overanalyzing their internal jokes, you came to terms with the fact that Johnny has porn voice acting as a side hustle. He never vocalized it but he didn’t have to and, honestly, it wasn’t exactly surprising – considering Only Fans is very common nowadays and, well, he has a very attractive voice. What astonished you, however, was the amount of nasty ass content – "roommate" related too, it's important to emphasize – he had on his reddit. You only searched for his content after days and days of wondering what his works were like, until then you could imagine him doing BFE and scripts filled with L-Bombs – or even some vanilla type of content that conservative christians labeled as freaky – but you did not expect the amount of spitting, bondage and power play you’ve found in the tags of his pinned posts.

Well, you should've known better.

Because, the fact that he's sharing audio porn on the internet is already a big flag of his character. There's no way he didn't have at least an exhibitionism kink. Which was the worst thought to ever cross your mind, since you yourself was a very, very devoted voyeur. Watching him around the flat now made you feel like a researcher watching the object of study in the wild. His whole demeanor was different for you, every little thing he did and said got your head racing with what’s he like in bed? He seems smoother when he talks – seems to be doing it with a lot more self-assurance too. Suddenly he's all flirty with others, his Scottish accent rolling thicker on his tongue and his body language way too inviting and you wonder if he knows that you know.

He most certainly gets off on the praise and the pleas. The thirst of anonymous people all over the world. You've never really heard any of his works but you've allowed yourself to read through the comments over and over again – and his answers too. You thought it was manageable, that the plaguing memories of unknown people lusting over him as well as his own filthy behaviour were the worse it could get.

But then you heard it.

For the first time since you started living together, you hear it low and soft, sneaking like a creep in the night through the thin walls of your shared flat. The unmistakable evidence of pleasure, relief and bliss entirely enveloped around it. He was jerking off right there, behind the closed door of his room beside yours, role playing in some sex filled script like some pervert for hundreds of people to hear – and, fuck, if you didn’t want to hear more of it. Yet, as you tried to seek sense in the mumbles and moans with an ear pressed to the wall, you were simply met with muffled little sounds.

To add up even more to your situation – like his newfound carelessness in doing his activities weren't enough –, the sounds of his pleasure started to haunt you. Not only in your home, but in your dreams too. And, then, in your friend's house as well.

It got you confused at first, how she insisted on your acknowledgement of the audio. You wondered why she wanted to share it so bad. It was uncommon for you to engage in sexually related conversations – other than the one moment where you whined to her about how your roommate was the closest you’d ever get to meeting a pornstar –, but she told you time and time again that "you have to listen to this one" and, after a lot of convincing from her, you did. And there it was:

r/gonewildaudio SoapTheBrawVA [M4F] cannae take it anymore [RambleFap] [MDom] [Slight edging] [Begging] [Exhibitionism] in the forms of [Wanting to be caught in the act] mentions of [Doggystyle] [Overstim] [Praising] [Begging] [7:32]

Your friend side-eyed you as you plugged the earphones on, knowing every single word of it by now. She heard it out of curiosity after you’ve talked to her about him posting not safe for work content and immediately decided she had to share it with you. You were flustered even before pressing play, the idea of him even so much as imagining that you're about to hear one of his audios had you hot with embarrassment. A pang of jealousy cut through your chest at the notion that she heard him in such an intimate moment, but it was his job anyways – she was not the only one.

“Wee pervs, hi.” Comes his voice a few seconds in, he gasps as soon as he finishes the greeting phrase and that's how you know he's already at it. You cross your legs, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “‘M too fuckin' horny today and my flatmate didnae want tae help my situation…” There's a small pause and a long, whispered curse with some fabric rustling in the background. Then, the distant sound of sticky squelching, slow and steady – teasing, tempting. "She– uh... She's a fuckin' wee tease,” he starts, a few small gasps making their appearance in between his words.

Even though his reddit post was tagged as "MDom", he’s so whiny about everything. It goes without saying that it became very clear to you what he was talking about – or rather, who he was talking about – with the way he'd describe your clothes and routine. He talks about how much you seem to try and piss him off on purpose, how he hates what you wear around the place. “Makes me wan’ t-tae have a wank on the sofa.” He grows needier as he speaks, letting out a small breath as he slightly picks up the rate on his hand.

“Would— Fuckin’ Jesus–” He moans, the sound so loud and so slutty it has you soaking your underwear. He’s trying hard not to stutter when he speaks again, his tone almost pained: “Would love tae have ye walk in on m-me… ” He groans, voice hoarse and restless, you wonder if he’s close – you don’t dare to look at the screen to know how long of it you’ve already heard.

He keeps talking about how he’d ravage you if he had the chance, describing it in detail. He asks for the listeners to imagine themselves in your place, to finally put an end to his misery and let him fuck you already. “Wan’ t’bend ye over the sofa back, take– Fuck, fuck—” He’s cut off by his moan. There’s a small moment of silence before he laughs at the pause, his hand movement no longer being heard and for a second you think he came. Although, the squelches start again.

“Mhm…” He hums long and low, saying “almost busted then,” with a giggle. “Tha’ what happens when… Ah– when I think of taking ye f-from behind.” Another moan echoes on your earphones and you have to fight the urge to stick a hand inside your pants – what you wouldn’t give to be able to watch him cum. “It wouldnae matter, jus’ wan’ ye all over me, bon.”

He sounds determined even though his breaths are shallow, like they barely reach his lungs. The squelching got louder and wetter, making you think that he must be leaking so much precum because not once you heard a lube bottle being open. “Jus’ wan’ ye tae tell me I did good, bloody hell–” His hand is stroking his cock faster, you can tell. His breath – long uneven – is too shallow now, his sounds desperate, needier. “After I’ve made ye cum again and a-again– Shit– Until ye can o-only thank me.” His voice is rushed and trembling, so it’s no surprise when he announces: “I’m gonnae cum, fuck—” He curses and moans, loud and clear.

There’s some whispering, he repeats that he’s close saying “cumming, I’m cumming, ah– Please, please, p-please,” and you’re not sure what he’s begging for, he probably doesn’t know either but it’s so hot, he sounds so wrecked only by a quick wank it makes you think about how much he’d lose himself if you two fucked. You wonder what he's thinking about when he whispers a curse one last time before his hand starts to slow its movements all the way until there’s no squelching anymore.

“Came so fuckin’ much, made such a mess.” He chuckles, tone light and airy, clearly basking in his post-orgasm bliss. “Christ– Aye… Thank ye for listening and see ye next audio.”

Even after the audio ends you stay still, not taking the earphones off nor touching the phone in your lap. Your friend takes the latter in her hands and closes the app, unplugging the earphones and looking at you as you stare at a random point of her living room. “Well… How’d you like it?”

You blink up at her, biting your lips to try and hide the evident smile that was forming on your lips but failing miserably. You two start laughing, you lean on her and gasp in between your short breaths. “I hate you, y’know?” It’s a boneless insult and she knows it, which only makes her laugh harder.

Needless to say, you couldn’t forget about it. Lucky for you she never mentioned it again and you could live in peace in that regard, but it did nothing to calm your heart – and your cunt. Every time you got close to him as you did your chores together or when he laid on the couch with you, it made you want to jump right into his arms, bask in the lust he nurtured over you and ask: “Do you really want me all over you?”

Naturally, considering the stage of your so-called friendship and the very fact that you live together, you didn’t do as you wished. Instead, you try and keep as normal as you can, brushing him off when he gets too flirty and changing subjects whenever one of his friends mention his side job. Still, Johnny was a smart man and very experienced when it came to people. Living with you for almost two years has taught him a lot of skills, the main one being that he could read you like a book – and, opposite from you, he didn’t avoid doing so.

The Scottish man was convinced he fell for you right when his eyes first laid on your being, the only confirmation needed for him to act accordingly was when he talked to you and you replied so politely and so sweetly he felt like asking you to marry him right there. With that thought in mind, he opted for a more friendly approach and decided to ask you, out of all people, to shelter him for a little while when things got complicated in his old apartment. Different from what he expected, your kindness allowed you to accept him in no time, even helping him move his things as you could.

Around the first few months, he got really comfortable living with you. So much so he didn’t want to leave and his feelings started to get out of hand. He'd catch himself lingering around too long, overly indulged in your conversations and quality time. He’d make himself present as much as he could, leaving little voice notes for you everyday just so you’d remember him at some point of your day. He got so into you that it started to feel like it was too much, especially since you seemed so reserved about it – even with your gentleness and your amiable relationship.

Unfortunately, Johnny was a very sexual man – maybe that’s why he felt so comfortable with being a porn VA – and his only way to release the pent-up tension that weighed his shoulders was sexually. Yet, loyal and committed man that he was, he couldn’t possible fuck someone else without thinking of you, so he did what was viable: he made jerking off more exciting, more arousing. He started doing it with an ajar door, doing it more loudly too, all to have you catch a hint, but you never did. He wondered if, maybe, you didn’t feel what he did. That sharing a home and a routine – a life, as he liked to think – did nothing to you, that you thought about him like you did when you first met.

Until one particular Friday after dinner.

He came home later than expected – he didn’t, you just had the day off, so you had nothing to do except wait for him to come back, which meant no time was soon enough – and asked if you wanted to do something different for supper. From then on, the two of you had spent almost the entire evening together, you said it’d be fun to try the new recipe you’ve written down in your little cooking book – mind you, one recipe that his mum had dictated to you over a voice call – and he agreed instantly, wanting to be in your good graces. You baked together, making the dough and your chosen toppings. Johnny tried to make you smile every five seconds, even going so far as making a heart-shaped pizza just to get in your nerves and, although he thought you’d get flustered or brush him off, you made your own heart-shaped dough to bake. 

It seemed like you were in a good mood because, as you ate together, the both of you talked like you never did. He quickly realized  he was never allowed to be so emotionally close to you, or anyone for that matter, and it made him so fucking happy to know that you were allowing it to happen – and enjoying it too. His poor in love heart, not knowing better, banged in his chest just from this small moment, from sharing a meaningful evening with his bonnie lass. You shared a bottle of wine, did the dishes together and, as it got too late for anything other than sleep, you settled in your beloved, L-shaped sofa.

He’s tipsy and happy, his whole body buzzing with joy as he watches you put one of your favorite vinyls on his record-player – a ‘cigarettes after sex’ one –, the soft melody of a romantic and melancholic song being heard all around the room. The usual soft, grainy sound is welcomed by his ears and he hums in delight, not having anticipated such a nice set of events this day – he loved the song, but he enjoyed it better knowing you were having fun.

He still remembers how you freaked out when you saw his record player, dusty and underused. He had it for a while but never went so far as buying multiple vinyls – he only had one or two, only his absolute favorite albums. You, on the other hand, started buying one after another from all types of genres, whenever his friends or yours were over you’d play the most calm and ambient melodies. He could see how much you loved it, he even went so far as offering you to keep it when he left, which you refused, saying that it was more practical if he just stayed altogether – you two got along so well, so why not, right?

Johnny’s eyes don’t leave your frame as you start to sway gently to the music’s instrumental, his head tilting to the side, broad frame lazily resting on the cushions as he watches you in the middle of the room. He waits for the first line to be sung before getting up, starting to dance along with you. He startles you a bit in your slight hazy state, but not enough for you to pull away. He is gentle as he moves his right hand to circle around your waist in a firm grip, pulling your body to press on his chest as his left finds your own. Your shared movements are unhurried, the melody enveloping the two of you and you can’t help but rest your head on him as you two slowly dance your thoughts away.

You barely notice the change in songs, the atmosphere too calm and too entrancing for you to think about something other than him. Johnny is beaming in your arms. You love to have him whisper the lyrics with his lips pressed to your ear. The gentle brush of his thumb on your waist makes your heart skip a beat, the heat of it radiating through your shirt and into your skin. You’ve spent the whole day missing him, even though he had simply left for work, and when he came home you wanted nothing other than to have him around you for a bit – or a lot, as it turned out.

He asks you about it – your willingness in letting him linger around like that – after three songs played and you only shrug. He gives you an inquiring look, wanting you to elaborate, so you can’t help but answer. “Jus’ missed you, aye?” Regretting as soon as you see the look on his face – you don’t.

“Aw, ye missed me, bon?” He coos, voice teasing but with an amused edge to it, like he couldn’t believe it at the same time he wanted it to be true.

“Mhm,” You hum and nod in agreement, not wanting to feed his ego but wishing he could know just how much. “That’s what happens when I don’t have better things to do.” You joke instead, letting out a shriek when his hand that was on your waist still squeezes around your skin, wanting to tickle you. “Alright, it wasn’t that. I just missed you, that’s all.”

He laughs at your frantic attempts of making him stop his assault, doing it only to settle both hands on your hips and hold you like that – face to face, his chest brushing against the swell of your breasts. “Why ye didnae text, hen?” He questions with a tilt of his head and it’s clear that he does it for more than just curiosity, it’s an accusation of sorts.

For starters, you didn’t have to do anything. You don’t like that you’re so caught up in his words but you’re not stupid, you know you wanted to and you neglected it. You’ve been having conflicted feelings about him for quite some time now and you didn’t want to give it more meaning than it should have. Regardless of your intentions, that’s exactly what you ended up doing, refraining from sending a simple text just because he could interpret it like you were showing interest – which you would be.

Besides, the motive that crosses your mind has a lot more to do with him than yourself. It makes you flustered, knowing you’re thinking about him in such a way with him so serious in front of you whilst holding your hips so tenderly. You pretend that you’re a couple having a disagreement and, for the shortest time, it just feels right.

“Sorry.” You mumble, like you were guilty of something even if you know you aren’t. Before he could further question you, you add: “I didn’t want to bother you…”

He furrows his brows then, utterly bewildered by your words. In what world would you ever bother him? He can’t think of an answer. Sensing that there was more to it than you’re letting on, he says: “Why would ye bother me, luv?”

“Uhm, y’know…” You make a vague gesture with your head like it’s obvious, your hands finding his forearms and Johnny could swear he has never been so close to losing control at the intimacy of your holds around each other – his mind drifting between wanting to talk to you and wanting to slam his lips in yours. When he makes no move on acknowledging what you mean, you give up. “You… I thought you were busy today. You didn’t send a voice note.”

Johnny stalls entirely and that’s when you realize he had been brushing his hands up and down your sides. He blinks slowly with a frown on his brow before he speaks again. “Are ye sure I didnae send it?”

You giggle at it, not expecting him to be so normal about it. “I’m sure you didn’t,” I would’ve remembered, goes unsaid. Before he can apologize or anything like that, you quickly whisper: “But it’s okay, we had a nice Friday date night to make up for it.”

God, you feel so silly, but it is true. You've been dying to give in to your desires, tired of being so closed off whilst being afraid of jumping with everything you had. So it was a good thing you are acting in the middle of both today.

Johnny, who could never lose the opportunity to tease you a bit and who’s always so attentive of things when it comes to you, quickly catches up on it – the little hint of how you feel. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing as he realizes what you mean by it. He could feel the butterflies flying all over his insides and coiling in his lower belly. The soft stir of his cock throbbing to life in his pants unbearably embarrassing from just the thought of having you like that.

“Friday date night, huh? Tha’ it, hen?” He says with a smirk, delivering the sentence with enough confidence so you don’t notice the red beginning to blush his cheeks. You simply hum with a sheepish smile in agreement, brushing him off with a whispered “friends’ date, okay?” and Johnny smiles wider at the response, his heartbeat wild in his chest as he restarts the sway of your bodies again, urging you to slow dance with him even though the record was, most likely, in its last couple of songs.

On the days that follow, the two of you never quite escape the unspoken tension – feelings – that came to light that night. Eventually, every Friday night was date night and Johnny would take you out on the days that you didn’t come up with different date ideas – because you always had Friday off work, so you had the time –, even though you two never confessed your feelings.

He started jokingly calling you his girlfriend to his friends and they all ate it up, not even questioning because duh, of course you were. You, on the other hand, would turn into an absolute mess when your friend called Johnny your boyfriend. Still, you never corrected her. Things fell into harmony quite fast and, before you noticed, you were celebrating two years living together – yes, Johnny threw a party. The event was just for you and your closest friends and it was more of an excuse to have them all over than anything else.

It was a Thursday night, the rain outside adding up to the cozy atmosphere, the soft sound of it hitting the glass of your bedroom window doing nothing to distract you from the sight in front of you. You got dressed whilst Johnny was showering, being almost entirely ready when he knocked on your door. You open it without thinking and there it is: Johnny in nothing but white boxer briefs, body still carrying hints of water from his shower as he lifts one shirt in each hand, asking you: “Which one should I wear, bon?”

You stutter out a gasp, turning around to pretend being busy making your bed, desperately trying to avoid jumping his bones. After cleaning your throat and recomposing, you point out: “Depends, what you chose for bottoms?”

He makes a sound of realization, a small “ah”. Then, he leaves your door for a few seconds before he’s back, wearing dark, baggy jeans with an undone brown belt hanging on the loops of it. “I’ll wear these.” He answers, taking in the contemplative pout on your lips and the tilt of your head as you ogle at his lower half. He takes the moment to make his own inspection of your outfit, which helps nothing his state of mind  – you look good enough to eat.

“I like those.” You eventually state, eyeing the options on his hands before making a decision. “Wear the white shirt… I think it’d look better than the black one.”

He just nods like a kid being instructed, tossing the black fabric in your bed in order to pull the white one over his head and onto his body. He checks himself out in the mirror, a hand brushing over his mohawk before he follows you out of the room. You walk until you reach your shared bathroom, looking over your shoulder to see Johnny hot on your tail. You don’t even question, already knowing he’s there to do the same as you, so when you open the small, wooden cabinet to take your toothbrush you take his as well, handing it over to him in a practiced motion.

It’s quiet between you as you brush your teeth in unison, his usual insistent presence comfortable to have around whilst you share silly activities. You take notice of his still undone belt, not thinking twice before reaching both your hands to do it for him. His breath hitches at the slight tug you give to the leather, caught off guard as your hands skillfully work to do it. He doesn’t stop his repetitive movements with his toothbrush, a mental reminder that he can’t kiss you with a mouth full of toothpaste, body leaning back only slightly to watch your movements. His heart flutters in his chest as he watches you, but it’s not long before you’re done with your task, hand resuming the motions with your toothbrush and Johnny has to recompose himself as he rinses his mouth clean and dries it on the small towel that rests on the space beside the cabinet.

“Thanks, bon.” He voices out once he’s done, hand resting on your shoulder in an affectionate gesture. His body leaning in to whisper in your ear, the action making goosebumps raise all over your skin. “Would love ye to undo it for me, too.”

He leaves the bathroom with a wink, a smirk playing on his lips. You halt for a second, hesitating on what to do before you start rushing to finish brushing your teeth. Once you’re done you pace towards his room, looking for him. You’re determined, you’ll make him kiss you right now no matter what it costs – who were you fooling, you might have to beg him to stop before your guests arrive. You find him sitting by the edge of his bed, putting on his brown, leather boots. You stop in front of him, realizing he’s still smiling as he looks up at you. God, he looks so good, blues eyes glinting with mischief as his hands tie the laces before he straightens up to hear what you have to say.

At your lack of words, he speaks first. “Got something in yer mind, hen?” He voices it so smugly it’s almost unfitting for him. But then again, he does have many facets to his personality.

“Would you kiss me?” You ask, being direct for the very first time and you can see it takes him by surprise. His hands reach for the back of your knees pulling you closer to his body, all the way until you’re sitting on his thighs – that’s a first too, and it makes heat settle in your core.

“Aye, I bloody would.” He states unceremoniously and you brace your hands on his chest as you get comfortable in his lap. “Why? Ye want some kisses, bonnie lass? Huh?”

The way he talks – honeyed, low voice – gets you flustered as you immediately remember his side job, you can only nod with the amount of thoughts running through your head – and the blood rushing down to your cunt. Johnny groans at your small answer, hands groping your waist as he quickly gets lost in the opportunity.

“No– No, luv. Use yer words for me, please…” It’s almost desperate the way he says it and it makes you buckle your hips automatically. His hands move to where your thighs meet your hips to urge you down on his swelling cock inside his pants once more. “Need t-to hear ye, hen…”

“Uh–” You close your eyes briefly and tilt your head to your shoulder, trying to seek the words wherever they’ve been thrown in your mind, wanting to be good for him. The moment builds up faster than you expected. “Please, Johnny… Wan’ you t’kiss me.”

That’s all it takes for him to urge you to grind on him again, harder this time. “Fuck, tha’s it, bon.”

Unfortunately, as he brushes your lips together to initiate what would’ve definitely been a searing, passionate kiss, the bells ring. You’re both startled by the sound, and you jump slightly in his arms. You’re getting up way too soon for the Scot’s liking, and he tries to pull you back but you shush his pleas. “We can’t leave them waiting, my love.” Using the pet name to try and soothe his frustration for not being able to kiss you.

You ask him to open the door in your place because you’re yet to put your shoes on and he complies, mumbling a curse under his breath whilst adjusting his cock inside his jeans – he tells himself you’ve only convinced him because you used a pet name, but he knew he was down bad for you. As he opens the door for his friends and invites them in, he realizes he fears his immediate future. He wonders if you’ll keep him at some reasonable distance in front of all the guests or if you’ll keep the intimate dynamic that has transpired between you two.

Suddenly he’s cursing every cell in his body, regretting the fact that he chose to throw a small party. That notion that he he could’ve been fucking you right now only the smallest detail in the book, what was banging in his head was the fact that you opened yourself even more then. He’s distracted as he seats himself with his friends at the sofa, nodding along their words even though he’s not paying them full attention

Johnny��s mind wanders far, far away from your shared house. Instead, he’s thinking about all the times he has taken you out or the times you’ve arranged small, homey dates for the two of you. He knows it isn’t going to help his situation, but he can’t stop the rushing thoughts that take over his mind, he feels overwhelmed by you and all the times he had you even if not physically. Knowing you were ready to take this step and further deepen your relationship had his hard cock leaking in his pants – love does weird things to a man, he figures.

When the bells ring again he doesn’t have time to get up from the couch, you come from the hallway pacing towards the door with your shoes on. You wave shortly at his friends before opening the door at the hall and he recognizes a feminine voice greeting you and making small conversation. Once you’re back, you finally greet his friend properly, telling them to make themselves at home as usual and offering a seat to your friend. Johnny expects you to take the seat beside her like you normally did, so imagine his surprise when he feels the added weight on the cushion by his side, the heat of your body embracing him as you snuggle to him.

He smiles at you, arm moving to rest on the cushions behind you as you all fall into a conversation as a group. Both your friend and his seem very happy at your proximity, not making any comments when Johnny would whisper something to your ear or how you’d take his hand on yours from time to time. That is, until someone brings up the famous, overly spoken subject: Johnny’s voice acting career.

You could hide yourself in a hole on the ground, the small mention of it making you flustered to your core – oh, and not because of him, but because of you. Because your friend is quickly adding up to the conversation. “Even though she refused to for so long, I made her hear one of his audios.”

Johnny snaps his head in your direction, expecting you to deny it. But you don't, how could you? You’re not one to lie like that, so you just kept silent with a hand covering the lower half of your face to try and hide your bashful smile. He doesn’t miss the opportunity. “Ye been hearing my audios, lass? Hm?” He whispers to you, leaning over your body just to spite you. Would you have said it to him on your own? He doesn’t think so.

“Oi! It was one audio, aye?” You say, all bark and no bite at all as you try to avoid the subject.

His friends laugh at your statement. “Aw, ya’ve been ‘round Johnny so much ya started talking like ‘im.” It’s a keen observation, one that has you laughing along with the others. You try to use the moment to change the subject.

“You’re right…” You trail off, head turning to look at Johnny. “Should I start calling you ‘hen’, then?”

It’s a poor attempt at making them pay attention to something else but it works, sparking a whole new conversation between them, the notion that you’ve listened to his audio quickly forgotten.

Time flies and, when you realize, they’re all going home soon. Goodbyes are said and hugs are shared. You walk every last one of them to the exit while Johnny stays busy tidying up the kitchen and living room. Once you’re back you can sense the shift in the atmosphere, something in the back of your head screaming for you to avoid pushing Johnny’s buttons, not knowing what to expect from now on. This was new territory because, even though you've gone on a lot of dates, neither of you have made any movement to turn things sexual.

Contrary to what you thought, Johnny doesn’t mention it as you approach him to see if he needed any help. Neither does he say something about it for the rest of the night. In fact, he’s awfully quiet as you turn the lights off and walk to your respective rooms, saying even less as you brush your teeth together. He still gives you a forehead kiss and wishes a goodnight but that’s it. You try to not overthink it as you close your bedroom door, eyes easily finding the black shirt he tossed on your bed when he was getting dressed earlier in the evening. You sigh, picking it up and pulling it over your head after having stripped off your clothes. You lay under the blankets with his scent all over you, mind drifting to when you were on top of him, grinding on his cock over your clothes. It makes a shiver run through you, but you refuse to touch yourself – if you did he’d know and that’s the last thing you want. So you just take a deep breath, air filled with his perfume and mind overtaken by thoughts of Johnny until you fall asleep.

It’s no surprise when you wake up drenched and horny. Your dreams had taken you to a perverted fantasy where your roommate had taken you to heaven and hell with his fingers, with his tongue and with his cock. It’s frustrating to even remember how good you felt and you try not to think about it as you pick your phone from your bedside table, unlocking it to see if there’s any notifications. A random e-mail from a site you shouldn’t have signed up in the first place – way too many unnecessary notices –, the weather for the day and, just a little bit lower in your notification bar, there it is, Johnny’s daily voice message.

You’re quick to open it, sinking back comfortably in your sheets as you prepare yourself to listen to it – it’s always an event, the best part of your day.

Johnnyboy<3 Voice message (0:17)

“Hi… G’mornin’, bon.” Comes his honeyed voice, the usual rasp from just waking up still clinging to his low timbre, probably recording the audio early in the morning. You check the time, finding the small, glowing numbers indicating what time he sent it: five twenty-three in the morning. “I already left for work, wan’ tae try and come back earlier today…” He usually leaves for work when the clock is marking past six thirty, so it’s nice to know he’s telling you why. “See if we can do somethin’ nice today, y’know?” You frown, checking the date.

Oh, it’s Friday.

“Hope you slept okay, hen. Text me when ye wake up.”

You groan, humming from the sleepiness in your body but not fighting the smile that takes over your features. He makes you so happy with such simple things, it’s kind of embarrassing and, matched with the state you woke up in, it makes you clench your thighs together. You move in the sheets just so they won’t be covering the microphone nor muffling your voice as you start to record your own voice message.

Johnny accesses his chat app as soon as he sees your message’s notification on his phone, already smiling even though he has no idea what you’re going to say. He checks the time, the clock marking six forty-two. You’re up early for a day off, he notices. He rushes to press play, excited to hear your voice – it’s the first time you respond to his voice message with one of your own.

Bonnie wifey Voice message (0:11)

“Hi, Johnny…” He presses pause right after he hears his name on your sleep-drunk voice. “Fuck… Okay.” He sighs and restarts the audio, listening to it all the way to the end, trying to ignore your adorable little hums that make his stomach twist with butterflies and his pants to grow tighter. “Hi, Johnny… G’morning. I just woke up…  Have no idea what we should do today, but ‘m glad you’re getting back earlier. Have a good day, ‘kay?”

He’s sure he’s not in his right mind as he moves to record yet another voice note, but he doesn’t really care, he needs to get it off his chest. “Aw, hi, cute lass. Dinnae ye sound so sweet when you wake up… Mhm, wish I could hear it more often. Maybe even give ye some kisses for it, aye?” Love on ye proper goes unsaid, but his tongue is itching to say it. He pockets his phone after sending it, trying to focus on his work instead of your sweet voice.

It takes you some time to see his reply, having had breakfast, cleaned the kitchen and brushed your teeth. You smile at the mention of your shared moment from last night – the kiss thing –, replying with a simple text message to avoid any more commotion from his end.

You: Why does it sound like you’re getting off? Pervert

Despite his effort in staying focused, Johnny can’t help but answer you as soon as he feels the buzz of his phone in his pocket.

Bonnie wifey: Why does it sound like you’re getting off? Pervert You: Cause I am;))) I’m a pervert for you<33

He doesn’t have time to put his phone away, because you reply right away.

Bonnie wifey: That’s not cute Johnny Bonnie wifey: Seek help

He snorts, clicking his tongue before typing again and sending the messages without rereading them.

Johhnyboy<3: Aye I would Johnnyboy<3: But ye nae here tae help are ye?

Your movements stop entirely as you stare at your phone screen. Did he mean what you think he meant? Only way to find out.

You: What type of help would you get from me?

Johnny laughs at your answer, were you really that naive? He types his answers but thinks better of it, erasing most of what he wrote to reformulate. When your phone buzzes in your hand you're fast to see if it was him. You’ve opened and closed the app more than once, waiting for his message.

Johnnyboy<3: I think ye can get a hint, cannae ye? Johnnyboy<3: Or do ye want me tae say it?

You roll your eyes at his answer – he’s so predictable.

You: Nevermind You: Shouldn’t you be working?

It’s like he’s been waiting for you to ask, the sentence ready on the tip of his fingers.

Johnnyboy<3: Aye I am Johnnyboy<3: But I can make some time for my bonnie lass

You giggle at his cheeky reply, trying to keep the mood as you type your next message.

You: Okay pretty boy, I’ll let you do your thing You: I’ll be waiting for you to get back early

Johnny couldn’t be happier at your words. The way you said it so cutely made him want to drown on you – in between your thighs, most definitely. He loved to share a domestic routine with you, sometimes he’d even pretend you were a recently married couple – which always made him way too happy for just an imagination. He rushed to get his work done so he could be home with you as soon as he could, making good on his promise.

You try to spend your day quite unceremoniously, doing silly things throughout most of it but not quite shaking the remnant of your morning arousal. You get some amount of distraction while picking what you’ll do with Johnny for the night – pasta for dinner and then you’ll watch a movie –, however, your mind keeps drifting to him, to his voice notes and his audios on reddit. You curse that they are so easy to access, especially as you sit in your bed, your laptop sitting comfortably in your thighs and a tab with his audio links open. That’s when you see a very, very recent post. A ramblefap, posted yesterday.

r/gonewildaudio SoapTheBrawVA [M4F] i came in my pants [RambleFap] [Needy] [Dry humping] [Hand job over the clothes] [Sleepy] mentions of [Somnophilia] and [Cunnilingus] [4:32]

You wonder how he even had time to record and post yesterday, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was a random ramblefap he recorded a while ago and decided to post yesterday, right? Wrong. Because as you plug your earphones to your laptop and contemplate if you should press play or not, you realize you fell asleep too quickly the night before, you wouldn’t have heard if he did anything. You decide that the only way you’ll find out is listening to it, there’s no reason not to.

Nothing could have prepared you for it.

“Wee p-pervs, hi–” The moan that leaves his mouth catches you off guard, he sounds so wrecked and you don’t even know what’s happening yet, his whispery voice doesn’t fail to make you want to grind down on your sheets. “Guess who m-made me so horny… Aye, shit— My flatmate. A-again.”

There’s no major fabric rustling in the background except for what seems like a light brushing – he’s probably running a hand up and down his clothed thighs, or his clothed cock. He’s half whispering but he’s definitely talking really close to the microphone. “She’s probably asleep right now. I‘ve tae be quiet…” He slurs, sounding lost. His mind is probably struggling to form coherent sentences. “Wish I could s-slide under her covers– Ah— A-and… Wake h-her up t’my mouth on her fuckin’ cunt, fuck—”

The wetness you managed to accumulate throughout the day starts to seep from your panties and wets the cotton of your sleeping shorts, you think that even after a shower you couldn’t find the peace of mind you crave. It’s unsettling, how sure you are that he’s about to cum, sitting now crossed legged on the mattress, your body leaning expectantly to the computer even though there’s nothing to actually see.

“Hi, lass!” The voice echoes in your head and you hit the space bar of your laptop to pause the audio. Your head turns mechanically to the door, your eyes locking with Johnny’s. It’s involuntary the way you check the clock before looking at him again.

“Johnny! You really did get home soon…” Your heart rate has spiked up to the roof, you don’t know what else to say because everything feels like he’ll catch you red-handed.

He squinted his eyes at you, and you swear he’s opening his mouth to accuse you of hearing one of his audios. “Is tha’… one of my shirts, lass?”

You look down at the black fabric still adorning your body. “Yeah…? You left it in my bed yesterday…” You nod, glad that there’s at least some nonchalance in your tone.

“So, ye jus’ decided tae wear it tae bed?” He’s approaching your bed, knees brushing over the edge of your mattress. He’s still wearing his work clothes – black slacks and white plain t-shirt – his cock twitching in his underwear at the sight of you on something that belongs to him – you couldn’t look more his.

“How’d you know I wore it for bed?” You talk back, no hesitation in your sentence. It never fails to amuse Johnny how much of a brat you can be.

“Didnae ye?” 

You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue. “I did. Does it bother you?”

He shrugs, shaking his head like it’s obvious. There’s still something glinting in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you makes you want to get on your knees and reveal all your secrets. You should’ve known better, you should have kicked him out of your already. “What’re ye doing, bon?”

“Uh… Jus’ some work stuff.” You nod along your words, pressing your lips together out of habit.

“On yer day off?” He questions with a chuckle. He can smell the nervousness in you, but he presses further. He drops by your side in the bed, body hovering over yours ever-so-slightly to look at your laptop screen, trying to keep himself from palming his growing erection. “Aww, would ye look at tha’.” You try to protest but he’s already taking the computer from you and bringing it to his streched legs. “Were ye enjoying yerself, hen?”

His tone is infuriating and you’d definitely be angry at the teasing if you weren’t absolutely embarrassed to your core. “Shut up, Johnny.”

“Oh, dinnae be like tha’, luv.” He closes your laptop and puts it on the floor, body turning to face you. “Ye haven’t finished hearing it. Wan’ me tae tell ye what happened?”

“No…?” Your voice is growing weaker in your throat, all snarky comments dying in your tongue. He laughs at your answer, moving the blankets so he can find your hips and pull you to him. You don’t show any resistance, moving to lay down on your side so you can face Johnny as well.

“Was tha’ a question?” He’s smiling, the tip of his fingers traveling from your cheeks to your arm and then your waist. “Could dae something else, if ye’d like.”

“Yeah?” You’re both whispering now, and maybe that’s what’s making the moment so intimate. Or maybe it was the overflowing tension and your obviously unspoken feelings, who knows? “Like what?”

“Aye. Like finally kissing tha’ bonnie lips ye have.” He’s moving to put a leg between yours, his lips already brushing yours as he moves to hover over you. His nose bumps into your own and he giggles in sync with you.

“Johnny?” You’re sure your heart is about to jump out of your mouth. Your hands find his biceps where you leave a light squeeze before moving them to his shoulders.

“Hm?” He hums, his eyes trailing over your face.

“I love you.” And you say it so calmly he thinks he heard you wrong.

“What…?”

“I love you, Johnny.” You repeat, voice trembling a bit at the force of your emotions. You couldn’t be more sure of your feelings for him, it just felt right to say it.

“Fuck– Dae ye mean it, bon?” He closes his eyes, voice not increasing a single pitch as he whispers it to your lips.

You close your own eyes. “‘Course I mean it, love.”

There’s no answer, at least not a verbal one. He sighs in what you think is relief before he’s pressing your lips together. He kisses you slowly, lips moving in yours almost in reverence, hands sneaking inside your shirt and you pant at the contact of them on your skin. Your hand runs through the short strands of his mohawk and he pulls away for the shortest second, changing his head’s angle before he’s kissing you again, until you’re both out of breath.

Despite the wholesome exchange, his cock is still hard in his pants, throbbing at the thought of what comes next. When he leaves your lips, his eyes are hooded and he has a dopey smile on his face. He noses your cheek, then your jaw and your neck. You can feel his smile as he brushes his lips to the spot underneath your earlobe sending tingles down your spine. You gasp, goosebumps erupting in your skin and he lets out a breath as you squeeze his shoulders.

“Love ye too, hen.” He mumbles to your skin, and that fact that he’s not looking you in the eyes shows just how vulnerable he feels at the confession. “I love ye.” He kisses your neck, then. Trails soft, wet kisses all over it and down to the collar of his shirt that’s wrapping loosely around your body. “Fuckin’ love seeing ye in my shirt…” He tugs at the hem. “But I guess it has tae go now, mhm?”

He helps you out of the shirt, your naked torso coming to his view which earns a groan from him, his legs adjusting themselves so he has both his legs between yours, his hands urging your thighs to close around his waist before he’s settling them in your waist again. “Screamin’ Jesus–” He gives you a short look and you nod, mouthing “it’s okay” and he wastes no time, cupping your chest in his palms. He thumbs at your nipples and you squirm a bit, legs pulling at his hips so he’ll grind down on you. “Fuck, bon, yer makin’ me crazy.”

Your hands find the hem of his shirt, untucking it from inside his slacks slowly. He squeezes your tits again, too lost in the sight of you. You help him take his shirt off as well, but before you can touch his chest and stomach he moves away from you and stands by the side of your bed.

“Aw, dinnae need tae pout like tha’, hen,” he coos. “‘M jus’ takin’ this off fer ye.” He moves to unbuckle his belt, but he pauses. “Actually… Ye should dae it, hen.” And he stands there, almost offering his hips to you like he’s some toy, so you sit up on the bed, hands reaching up to unbuckle his belt for him. He watches you with burning lust in his eyes, the bulge of his cock way too close to your face and you’re aware that your sleeping shorts are most likely soaked now.

Once you’re done with undoing his belt you pop the button of his pants and pull the zipper open, the action making the fabric graze his cock. He buckles his hips almost imperceptibly, his hands moving to pull yours away as he strips off of his slacks, and he wishes he could take a picture of your glinting eyes as you openly ogle at his boxers. He climbs on the bed again, laying down flat on his back and he pulls you by your hand so you’ll be sitting on top of him, the pressure of your soaked cunt making his eyes flutter shut with a sigh. “Fuck, bon…”

You moan, too worked up to even bother that you’ve barely done anything. He gropes your hips, his own bucking up into you to try and get some relief, and pleasure spikes through you. You grind down on him harder, the fabric of your shorts bothering you because they block the actual touch too much. You’re growing frustratingly needier, so you take your shorts off along with your panties, Johnny doing the same with his underwear. The two of you moan in unison when you grind your naked, wet pussy to his leaking cock, Johnny feels like an animal humping in you like that but it’s too good – you feel too good – it’s almost impossible to stop. The pressure of his hard length dragging along your folds makes your head spin, but you need more. 

Johnny must be thinking the same thing because he’s urging you to get up a bit, one hand closing around the base of his cock to guide it to your hole. “S-shit– Johnny–” You gasp at the intrusion, his cock girthier than you thought it would be. The stretch burns a bit too good as you sink down on him, your eyes rolling back in your eyelids when you press your hips flush to his, your hands bracing on his chest for balance.

“Fuckin’ hell– Bon—” He moans, right hand giving your thigh a harsh squeeze before he helps you move up. He bites his lips at the first thrust, your breasts bouncing as you move on top of him and he can’t help but put one of them in his mouth. It unbalances you a bit but you keep moving, right hand closing around his pretty cross chain as you arch your back, his tongue brushing on your nipple before giving it a small bite.

“Ah– Johnny, f-feels so good.” You whine and he smiles, leaving you tit to move to the other, repeating his movements. Your hips stutter and he chuckles at your movements. He pulls back to look at you, moaning at the sight because you’re just so gorgeous.

“My bonnie lass, mine–” He grunts and doesn’t think before he rolls you two on the bed, changing your position. You yelp as your back hits the mattress but Johnny doesn’t give you time to recompose, snapping his hips to yours. “Fuckin’ m-mine, hen. Love ye s-so much…”

His thrusts find a faster, steadier pace than yours. His face finds your neck where he starts to suck and leave bites, trying to mark your skin. You brace your hands on his back, scratching down on it to match his rhythm. He’s too lost in the pleasure and so are you, he can feel you clenching tighter around him. “Are y-ye close, hen? Gonnae– Shit— C-cum fer me?” He whispers to your ear.

You hum in agreement, nodding as your mouth opens in a moan. He pulls back, kneeling on the mattress as he pushes your thighs so they press in your chest and your head falls back. “Johnny– Oh, God—” The change in the angle makes him reach deeper in your cunt and you're cumming before you know it.

“Oh, Christ, hen. Cunt f-feels like– Fuck– Fuckin’ heaven.” He moans, his movements turning sloppy, the squelching of your pussy being heard over your moans. Your wet walls clamp down on his shaft enticing a grunt from him and he leans down to smash your lips together. He whines as you kiss, feeling like he might cry as he cums inside you, his warm load filling you up so nicely you whimper at the feeling of it.

Your body starts to twitch from the oversensitivity because Johnny is still fucking into you, riding both your highs. His movements eventually slow to a stop and he hugs you with his cock still inside you. “Best Friday date night ever, bon.”

You laugh, arms hugging his shoulders as you pull him closer to you, the motion making him move inside you and you both let out a sound because of it – you wincing and Johnny moaning. “We should shower… We still have to eat something.”

He smiles at you, turning to press a passionate kiss to your lips. “Aye, we should…” He trails off, and you exchange a charged look before he brushes his nose to yours. “I love ye, hen.”

“I love you too, pretty boy.”

You shower together, more exchanging kisses and affectionate touches than actually concentrating in getting cleaned. When you finally move to the kitchen so you can cook dinner you’re both starving, but it does nothing to disturb the loving atmosphere between you. The two of you eat while watching a random movie you both have seen more than once and you barely pay attention to it after you’ve eaten – making out messily on the couch with the dishes sitting at the coffee table. 

As you brush your teeth together that night, you realize you’ve never felt like you belonged to something so much. Already in his room, the both of you cuddling under the covers, you’re sure Johnny feels the same at the hum of delight that leaves his lips. He hugs you from behind, broad body caging yours as he slurs sleepy: “Yer my girlfriend now, aye, bonnie?”

You laugh, heart filled with love knowing you’ll wake up by his side. The notion makes you snuggle closer to him, chasing his warmth. “Yeah, ‘m your girlfriend now, love.”

a/n: hope you guys liked it, i wrote it in like 10 days whilst studying for my last exam lol. i hope the texting part wasn't too confusing, let me know what you think.

[lustjunkiie]

1. I think it's so cute that we can call you Mrs. Beth.

2. It's getting warmer out, and I can't stop thinking about the 141 finding out their girl wearing a sundress or skirt without panties... I feel like Simon and John would be freaks about this. (In a good way)

Yes! I am Mrs. Beth <3 Here for all your fanfic needs.

As a Texan girl, I love me some hot weather.

And I’m starting to think the boys would love it just as much as I do.

TF!141 (Individually) x Fem!Reader, Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of public / bathroom / work intercourse! (I think that’s it).

SIMON:

Simon doesn’t think much of the dress at first, just sees you bringing him ice water while he works shirtless in the back garden, picking at weeds and tidying up the area for the little one you’re both expecting.

“Mm, thanks, luvvie,” he sighs, sipping the water and handing it back to you before explaining what he’s been doing to the yard and how he eventually wants to arrange it for the baby.

Then, the wind catches, and you yelp a bit, frantically moving to pin your dress down to your thighs — escaping the cold breeze. He raises an eyebrow, whatever gardening tool in his hand is long forgotten.

He steps forward, hand traveling down the side hem of your dress until he reaches the hem, dipping under it to discover that this dress is all you have on. He takes a deep breath, his head momentarily lulling back as he thinks.

“Get in the house.” He demands softly, his voice rough with promise.

JOHNNY:

Now, with Johnny, (and maybe Kyle a little bit but we’ll expand on that soon), I feel like he already knows. It’s a power thing. Especially if you work with him, and you guys have a little affair on the side.

“Ye ain’t wearin nun under yer civvies, are ye?” He’ll text you a few hours before a night at the bar with the team, causing you to bite your lip and roll your eyes. But you comply, wearing a tight dress with nothing under. And when he sneaks you two away to the seedy bar bathroom, he’s grinning like he won the lottery.

And to him? He did. With you.

KYLE:

I feel like Kyle is secretly a freak. Like shibari with ribbons and lace kinda freak. So he buys your lingerie, and asks you to wear it on y’all’s date tonight. Thinking it’s an innocuous enough request, yeah? He just wants to see his baby in something frilly and pink.

But, to his surprise, he feels you up at the dinner table (freak) only to discover there is nothing there. And, while it’s hard to catch a vigilant man like Kyle off-guard, he is stunned for a long second. As you innocently smile at him and usher the waiter over for another drink.

It’s a miracle he didn’t pay then and get everything to-go, truthfully — while he sat there with his fist bunched against his jeans and his cock twitching against his zipper.

JOHN:

John is an old dog, with not many new tricks. Not saying he’s vanilla by any means, but he knows what he enjoys and he doesn’t really think much to expand outside of that. Until you.

He’s at work, buried in paperwork and contemplating a career change when his lovely bird strolls in through his office door — and his shoulders feel lighter. He feels like he can breathe again. Gestures for you to sit on his lap, and he doesn’t notice anything at first. Until you two get to kissin’ and bumpin’ and grindin’ and he feels a wet spot form on his pants.

Finally, he checks to see. No fucking underwear. For a moment, his brain is fried. He almost asks if you forgot to do laundry until you snicker softly at his face of realization, and then he understands what’s happening.

“Mm, naughty bird,” he laughs gruffly as he grips the fat of your ass, “you know I love easy access,” he teases, grinning against your lips.

author’s note! i am back! trying my best to hack away at some asks and such. love you all.

[lustjunkiie]

I’m dizzy 😵‍💫

18+ mdni | cw: transman!Simon Riley x fem!Reader; hybrid/handler dynamics; established relationship; heats

Your sweet cat hybrid Simon, who goes into heat while you, his handler, are running errands all day. As soon as you finally return home, you're greeted with a needy meowing—and a sight to behold once you step into the bedroom, his scent already thick in the air.

There he is, squirming and writhing on the drenched bedsheets, pale skin flushed and sweaty, tawny eyes hooded with lust, black tail curling and bristling with excitement as he spreads his thick thighs for you, presenting his pink, puffy pussy, his engorged clit twitching in anticipation.

"Oh, lookit that," you coo, dropping your bag on the floor while his ears twitch with another mewl. "My pretty, pretty boy, all wet and desperate for me, hm? I'm so sorry for being so late."

Simon purrs hoarsely, strong chest rumbling with the sound, hoping his little presentation is enough to coax you into fucking him stupid with your strap.

[lustjunkiie]

like or reblog this post if the spoons theory is helpful to you!

i’ve recently started using it as a mental calculation of my energy, and it helps me to not feel as insecure about how much i may or may not get done in a day. and i wanna know how many of YOU this is helpful for.

i wish i could’ve discovered this sooner!

[lustjunkiie]

Reblog if your art project has not, does not, and never will make use of generative ai at any point in your creative process.

[lustjunkiie]

i am so sorry for my absence recently, between vacation and the summer season rolling around, i’ve been busy. back to regularly scheduled programming around june 2nd, though! <3 i love you all.

[lustjunkiie]

IM GIGGLINGG AT THIS /pos /real /tiddies 🥰

people who can't appreciate small titties are such losers. oh nooooooo they're cute and soft and perfectly mouthful size noooo what am i ever gonna do with these tits that are almost tailor-made for sucking on??? grow up

[lustjunkiie]

I am a changed woman. 🫣

Based on porn I recently watched.

Simon Riley gets his cock sounded. [ 18+ ]

When you approach him with a peculiar request, he gives you one of his trademark shrugs—the king of nonchalance, he is.

"Whot's a bit more metal in my dick, eh?" he jokes before turning his attention back to the telly and the football match he's watching; sipping his beer with one arm propped behind his head, splayed out on the couch like a lazy alley cat on his rare day off.

And with his permission, you buy sounding rods, curious as you are, a toothy smile playing on your lips when you put the sex toys in your virtual shopping basket; mentally telling yourself repeatedly that you'll give him the most mind-blowing orgasm he's ever had.

Orgasms your fiancée will remember even if he's thousands of miles away from you.

Three days later, the package arrives, and Simon is peeking over your shoulder as you rip open the brown box on the plush carpet in your bedroom, cross-legged like a happy teen on Christmas Eve.

"Two?" He clucks his tongue, suddenly suspicious. "Why two?"

You show him the first one, holding it up for him to inspect like Rafiki presenting Simba to Pride Rock.

They're both stainless steel rods. One six inches with barely a few millimeters in diameter, the other eight inches with tiny bumps and ridges along its length, and the slightest bit thicker, too.

You push the small button at the top of the second one and it begins to vibrate gently.

"This one's a vibrator!" you announce with glee while Simon's throat bobs as he swallows thickly.

That evening, you have him lay down naked on your comfortable king-sized bed, right in the middle of it, while you dress up in your sexiest pair of panties—just for him—with your pretty tits out and your eyes twinkling as you drink in the view, sitting on your haunches next to him.

"Should take tha' off, too," he mutters with a playful tug on the lacey waistband, "and sit in on my cock instead."

You tut, swatting his hand away while he chuckles gruffly.

"I'll get there eventually, Riley."

He's already half hard when you dribble a generous glob of clear lube onto the deep flushing tip of his cockhead. The three silver ladder piercings on the underside of his thick shaft start glinting in the dimmed light as you spread the slick down his whole length, teasing the thick, pulsing veins with your fingertips until his breath starts hitching.

"Fuckin' love yer hands," he groans as you start stroking him with both hands, his head hitting the pillow with a dull thud as you twist your wrists rhythmically, massaging him throughly.

"What was that?" Your hands still, gripping the base of of his now twitching prick as you fix him with a stern look and an arched brow.

A brief pause. His bulky chest heaves, then: "Fuck... fuckin' love yer hands, mommy."

You smile adoringly at him when he peers down at you, and next, his cheeks flush as deeply as the tip of his cock.

"Yer killin' me, sweet'art." His chest rumbles with another groan and his head lolls back again. You giggle softly and your hands continue to pump his slick, silky flesh.

And you keep jerking his prick one handed while reaching for the first rod with your free hand, lubing it well before bringing it up to his little piss hole.

"Relax for me, yeah? Tell me if it hurts, baby." You instruct him gently and wait for his nod.

Simon does nod, and you pull his foreskin taut to rub the cool tip around his weeping, fluttering slit, eagerly oozing with precum when you push the sleek steel inside carefully, watching in awe as his cock swallows it up with ease.

"Oh... f-fuck, m-mommy," Simon moans roughly, back bowing off the mattress while his thighs tremble at the pleasurable intrusion.

"Feels good?" And Simon nods more eagerly. "Y-Yeah... feels fuckin'–" He exhales a shuddering breath. "Fuckin' brilliant."

He's fisting and twisting the bedsheets, dark eyes blown black with lust and squeezing shut, his other hand groping your supple thigh as you push the rod in deeper while stroking his cock, and it's both a mesmerizing sight and a strange mix of power and arousal now coursing through your veins, like you're high on the pleasure you're giving him.

The room is filled with his musk, the sticky scent of lube and pre, the slow shlick shlick shlick of your firm hand pumping his length while you simultaneously fuck his tiny hole with the sounding rod, the gusset of your panties already soaked with your own syrupy slick.

Then he gasps. "M-Mommy, 'm ah–close!"

And you slow down, rubbing your thumb along his smooth piercings, toying with the barbells lazily as you slowly pull out the rod again, only keeping its tip inside his slit while rolling the steel between the pads of your thumb and index, teasing and edging him while his chest heaves with panting breaths, his calloused hand squeezing the fat of your thigh harder until his fingers leave imprints on your supple skin.

"You're not gonna cum until I tell you to, you hear me, sweet boy?"

Simon whines low in his throat, bucking his hips slightly while his muscles clench and flex.

"Yes," he answers roughly, and his face twists in a pleasure-pained grimace, "yes, mommy."

When you're sure his cock is ready and properly prepped, you pull the sleek rod from the depths of his urethra before grabbing the vibrator.

"Ready, Si?" He nods breathlessly, observing you with hazy, half-lidded eyes.

Another big drop of precum oozes from his stretched hole and you lick your licks, utterly thirsty, as you squeeze his shaft, up his mushroomy tip while you watch it dribble down your knuckles before you insert the other sounding rod.

The small bumps and ridges disappear inside his prick, stimulating the sensitive canal as you fuck him with it, eliciting a myriad of hitching breaths and wanton moans from Simon.

"Remember, don't come yet." You're smiling as you remind him before pushing the button, bringing the rod to a soft, steady buzz that makes his eyes widen and his back arch off the mattress.

"Oh, fuck!"

You keep a firm, steady pace as you stroke his cock, amping up the vibrator to the second setting while pushing more inside his hole, down his long prick. He's whining and bucking at this point, causing your smile to widen and your heart to flutter.

"That's right, baby. You can take it all, hm? Such a fucking good boy for mama."

Tears are pooling in his tawny eyes as he babbles curses under his breath, staring at the ceiling while the thick veins in his neck and arms pulse, and his toes curl against the bedding—trying not to combust as his vision starts blurring and his mind clouds with tension and desire.

"Need to cum, mommy, please–" he pleads through clenched teeth, unable to look at you while you tease him mercilessly.

You push the button again and the buzz becomes louder, deep inside his cock, until you feel it around your palm. His cock throbs violently as he cries out, nails digging into your thigh while his other hand slaps against the mattress.

But you keep the rod deep inside, pushing the button again and fourth time as you pump his length faster from root to tip, tits jiggling at the movements.

"You wanna come that badly, baby? Huh? Wanna paint my pretty hands with your fat load, hm? No fucking patience. What a surprise, Riley!" you taunt him condescendingly, watching him squirm under your spell.

He's panting wildly like some dog, nodding once more while a drop of sweat trickles down his temple. "I know, I know, 'm sorry. Fuck, p-please, yes, please! Let me cum!"

There's no trace left of Ghost in this moment; tere's only Simon, your good, sweet boy, and it's exhilarating.

You kiss your teeth while something tugs at your heartstrings—and throbs between your thighs. "Awww, begging me so, so sweetly," you coo. "How could I ever deny someone as sweet and handsome as you, Simon?"

He groans again when you say his name so sugary sweet, your voice dripping down his ear canals like warm blossom honey, causing his pale, scarred skin to pebble with gooseflesh and his small nipples to tighten almost painfully.

And then you push the vibrator inside its whole length before leaning forward to spit on his prick, finally jerking him off like you mean it.

Simon snarls, baring his teeth, nostrils flaring, before his face twists in pleasure, and he cries out your name, huffing and groaning desperately as his climax puts him in a chokehold, eyes rolling back into his skull.

His fat balls draw up tight against his body, and then his small hole gapes more around steel as his cock erupts with thick, hot ropes of cum—a seemingly endless stream of milky white running down your hands as you squeeze and stroke him through his orgasm.

Biting your bottom lip, you press your thighs together, needy for friction against your swollen clit as you watch him come apart under your touch and guidance.

"There you go... good boy," you purr softly, slowly pulling out the vibrator and clicking it off while his mass shudders and trembles with intense aftershocks. "Fucking beautiful, baby."

You continue to stroke him, and Simon whines and mewls when another orgasm wrecks through him; cock pulsing and throbbing weakly in your grasp as a smaller load of cum spurts from his dilated slit.

"Please, m-mommy, I–I can't–" he sobs, patting your thigh meekly while his hips buck.

"Alright, fine." You're grinning triumphantly as he lets out a shuddering, blissful sigh.

His shaft goes limp in your hand, softening and turning half its size with loosened foreskin, though it keeps twitching until you finally let go, allowing him to take a deep breath.

"So good for me, Si," you coo as you clean him and your hand up with a spare towel. Then you're kissing his pubic bone and getting tickled by his dark blonde bush.

"My good, sweet boy." He whimpers as you kiss and bite the pudge of his lower stomach, then up his bulky muscles, his buff chest—peppering each centimeter with a lingering smooch until you reach his face.

Simon wraps both arms around your back, corded muscles flexing to keep you anchored to his warm body, bare tits flush to his chest.

"Minx." He huffs, nudging his forehead against yours in a gentle headbutt, like a cat showing affection. "Was nearly sent to another early grave there."

You snort. "Don't say that." And you bump your nose against his, nipping at his bottom lip.

"I love you," you murmur, finally kissing his lips and slipping your tongue into his mouth, greedy for a taste, and he lets you, while one large hand comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers splaying to gently scratch at your skull.

He's smiling against your sweet lips, utterly sated and wrecked, his heart soaring with content and adoration.

"I love ya, too, m'sweet mama."

[lustjunkiie]

he’s so me

ghost who always have a grey, heavy, uninterested air about him but one day he comes to work, and he's got something behind his ribs clawing to be let loose. his teeth are clenched, his eyes sharp. his orders bite harder, his patience runs thinner, and the recruits feel it but don't understand it.

and it's all because you couldn't lie back and get eaten out like every other morning. it was routine. ingrained. automatic. ghost slips under the covers, dips his head between your thighs, and laps at your sex until you leave the mess he loves best— the slick, saturated spot he'd sniff while still wet. (can't blame me, luvie. it's sweet.)

you'd gotten up, thrown your clothes on in a hurry, and had been out the door, keys in hand, before he could get a word in.

unacceptable.

(kyle later catches him and asks him if he skipped breakfast or something. not by choice is what ghost tells him.)

[lustjunkiie]

part one is out!!

inbetween asks and drafts, i’m going to be starting a new series! the first of many, hopefully.

sacred promises 🤍

Simon Riley x TransMasc!Reader

CHAPTERS:

I. Take Me As I Am, Or Leave Me As You Go

+ many more to come…

Stick around, luvvies!

Xoxo, Mrs. Beth!

[lustjunkiie]

sacred promises; one

TransMasc!Reader x Retired!Simon Riley

Contains (eventual, this chapter): Emotionally unavailable Simon, angst, SMUT, Simon as a hard!dom, Use of “pup”, “lad”, “mutt”, “sir”, “prince”, whatever the opposite of slow burn is, awkward!TransMasc!reader, gender confusions, masturbating, age gap dynamics (Simon is 42, Reader is 22), slight forcemasc vibes?, NOT PROOFREAD, and more to come. ;)

Xoxo, Mrs. Beth.

Dating apps fucking sucked. That was the general consensus as you swiped aimlessly, all the men on your screen either repulsive-looking or had something akin to a hate crime written in their bio.

Don’t you just fucking love Englishmen?

You were about to close the app and give up on the prospect of love and everything it stood for before a man caught your eye.

Simon. 42. His face conveniently covered in every photo, either by the phone or a plain piece of black cloth. Photos of his toned abs dominating his profile. Only a few sentences written in his bio.

“Searching for a little lad to throw around ;) Not good at commitment. Picky. 👻”

The ‘picky’ comment was a bit discouraging, but you truthfully had nothing to lose. Maybe a bit of ego, but even that was scarce nowadays. You swiped right, expecting nothing and —

Did it just fucking match?!

The desperate part of you was jumping for joy, but the sensible part of you was clearing your throat and planting your hips firmly in bed as to not bounce off the walls. Despite the time,

1:04AM…

You typed up a message anyways. Unfortunately, Simon beat you to it. Cockiest bastard you’d ever matched with on this godforsaken app.

“Was waitin for u to match w me, knew u would”

Okay, ego alert. You snorted, with a complimentary eyeroll, before typing up a quick response.

“Oh, you’re so sure of yourself?”

“Nah just sure of u. i know ur type, pup.”

You wanted to scream. Out of annoyance, out of excitement and a little bit out of fear. You hadn’t even told him your last name, and he was already belittling you and pinning little pet names to you.

“Excuse me?! What the hell does that even mean?”

“Need a big man like myself to protect u”

This guy had a lot of nerve. And probably the qualifications to back up his ego, but still! Give a guy some breathing room.

“What are you even on here for?”

“You”

“Wow! You can spell the entire word.”

“Watch it, lad. wouldn’t wanna have to show u who u belong to.”

You audibly gasped. You were sure at this point that this man was either fucking with you, or extremely desperate for some kind of something. The conversation unraveled from there, him sending photos of his gray sweatpants — outlining what it was he was thinking with, and you sending photos of simple things. Thighs, post-workout photos. Anything to keep him wanting. Asking for more.

Maybe this could be something real.

[*]

A few weeks had passed, flirty conversations and unfulfilled promises of him doing all kinds of dirty things to you lingering within those conversations. Him sending his number in an attempt to get you off this app.

And right now, you lounging on the couch after an insufferable 7-hour shift at Tesco’s. Narrowly avoiding your manager asking for you to stay over. And Simon’s name flashing across your phone screen, a soft vibration accompanying the image.

He was calling you.

He was calling you.

He’s fucking calling you!

You picked up way too quickly, any dignity quicker shredded in the wake of this new relationship (could we even call it that?) development. You’d get to hear his voice. After many thirsty images and many nights spent with a soaked gusset, you’d hear the man behind the screen.

He picks up, his end of the line silent for a frozen moment in time before he speaks — the grin he’s wearing evident in the inflection in his voice.

“Hey, pup.” Something akin to a cough rumbles from his lungs and he sighs. “Wanted to hear ya.” You hear a soft zip sound, and it registers with you exactly what this is. What exactly he’s asking for.

“Hi, Simon,” you drawl out, your voice akin to that of a teenage boy, but you push through. He knows your story. Some of it. Why there’s constant red marks on your ribs from your binder, the story of your first awkward packing experience, the trials and tribulations you faced to get here. To become who you are. To become him. He knows it all, and he doesn’t mind. It doesn’t phase him. Encourages him, it seems like.

He laughs gruffly, a thud from him snuffing his cigarette before he has himself in his hand, stroking softly. “Hi, lad. You been good today?” He asks, and normally… this would turn you off. Spark a spite in you to stop taking care of yourself, but it blooms something in your chest. Something soft and warm and dangerous. Something permanent and sticky. Something not easily tamped down.

“Yes, sir,” you smile, voice becoming more timid as Simon gets more bold. He likes you this way, soft and quiet while he does all the protecting. All the instigating. There’s long, focused breaths he’s taking. Surely to keep his composure as the soft squelches grow louder, more rapid.

“How can I know that, lad? You tellin’ me the truth?” He chuffs out, his grin growing larger with every soft giggle you let out. He seems to adjust the microphone, his phone closer to where he’s holding himself in his hand. Like he wants you to hear what he’s doing to the sound of your voice. The squelching a continuous sound, his breathing rough.

“Yes, sir,” you giggle out, your face all splotchy in its flush. He laughs back at you, growing silent for a second before he speaks again.

“You need me to come and show you how to behave anyways, prince?” You flourish at the nickname. Like a flower after fresh rain, sun-bathing and blooming new petals. Even if he’s repeatedly assured you that this is nothing more than fuck-buddies, you can’t help but feel loved. Cared for. Maybe it’s the lack of substantial care as a child, or the lack of any kind of memorable authority figure, but you flourish under his praise. Finally growing into someone important under his ownership.

“Maybe,” you sigh, almost wistfully, and he’s over the edge. Spend lazily shooting onto the concrete of his balcony, next to where the cigarette had been tossed. He’s redone his belt before you can even say his name.

“Address, prince. I need it,” He says, and there’s a soft pleading edge. You hear the rumble of some kind of motorcycle, and type it to him.

Read 7:13PM.

“See you soon, Simon,” you sigh again, a whimpered lilt at the end just to be a fucking tease.

“Damn right you will,” and the call is cut.

[ * ]

The knock is firm. Intense. Knowing. Ready.

You open the door, mouth widening as you take him in (with your eyes). Your eyebrows furrow, and he’s on you. Motorcycle helmet and balaclava tossed lazily on your counter, shoes tossed somewhere socially appropriate, and his arms caging you in against the wall. You catch a glimpse of his face here, but everything is moving too quickly to be registered.

His hips rutting against your stomach as he completely fucking dominates your mouth, spit covering your face in a way that isn’t typically possible when kissing anyone else. But Simon had something to prove. Something he wanted to show you.

You make a soft whimper, pushing on his abdomen to hopefully slow down this seemingly immovable object, and he takes a step back. All too abruptly. You whimper at this, too, and he sighs.

“Bedroom.” He snaps, his voice low. You nod, leading him there. You stand in the doorway like a moron before he all but snatches you up and tosses you onto the bed, finding hems to clothing and snatching. You try to close your thighs, slow him down at all but this is now a mission to him.

And you always have to complete the mission.

Once you’re spread out for him on your messy bedding, he looks at you. Still fully clothed to keep a distance. Uphold the dynamic he has created here. But mostly to keep the distance. He wants nothing more than a warm body out of this, but why is it so hard to keep reminding himself of that? When you’re giggling or sending him photos of pastries that’re just too damn sweet to be healthy? Or photos of your orange tabby?

Why is it suddenly so hard to create distance?

But he manages, grabbing at your clit and twisting. He tuts softly, shaking his head.

“Tiniest prick ‘ve ever seen,” he scolds, and it knocks you from your turned-on trance. Did he just..? “Can’t even see it until I start playin’ with it, strokin’ on it,” You are majorly confused, but just lay back and try to enjoy the action. You’ve been lacking in that department, why ruin a good thing? Plus, it’s probably just a weird sex thing. Nothing to worry about.

He gets his mouth on the sensitive nub, now red and swollen from stimulation, and you’re bucking your hips and whining.

“Enough, pup,” he snaps up, his eyes boring into you. He firmly plants hands on your pelvic bones, pressing you down into the bed. “If ya can’t fuckin’ be still, you’re gonna piss me off. N’ ya don’t want that.” And as much as you wanted to be a brat, his eyes and his tone scared the piss out of you.

He ate you until you finished thrice over. Wanted to go for a fourth but you whined too much. It was 9:43PM by the time you had cleaned yourself up and redressed yourself. Finding him getting his things ready by the door after rinsing his face with water.

“Si! Don’t you want to stay?” Your tone broke your own heart. Suddenly, you were five again. Asking your mom to come to a dance recital that she was too drunk to even write on the calendar. Empty promises that she would make it, and yet her seat sat vacant. The spot you begged your teacher to —

“Can’t do that, pup. I work construction. Gotta be up early.” His voice breaks you from the trance. Tears gathering at the brim of your waterline as he looks down at you, his face shielded now with the balaclava. He’s off tomorrow, but you don’t know that. You can’t. He can’t tell you. Can’t stay. Doesn’t want to leave.

He has more he wants to say, festering on the tip of his tongue like molasses. Sticky and immovable. So he just shakes his head, grabbing his helmet and rocking on his feet. He wants to kiss your temple, and give you more comfort. But he’s already waded in too far. Told you he couldn’t fuck you ‘cause he didn’t bring a rubber, but what he didn’t say was he couldn’t guarantee he would pull out at all.

He’s gone, and you’re tearing up. Feeling barely an inch tall. Begging your stepdad to watch cartoons with you, but he’s too doped up to walk straight. Promises for ‘next time, bug.’ A next time you never got.

“When can I see u next?”

Simon asks, still in the parking lot of your building.

“Idk”

You respond, because that’s the most honest truth. And he understands. You’re both standing on different sides of the river, and it’s just too cold to swim over.

[lustjunkiie]

inbetween asks and drafts, i’m going to be starting a new series! the first of many, hopefully.

sacred promises 🤍

Simon Riley x TransMasc!Reader

CHAPTERS:

I. Take Me As I Am, Or Leave Me As You Go

+ many more to come…

Stick around, luvvies!

Xoxo, Mrs. Beth!