shinoko-oshi

[shinoko-oshi]

Part of the reason Simon struggled with boundaries was his father: Deep down, he’d always knew

Sometimes it was just easier to forgive, especially in the mornings, when the alcohol had long since worn off and his father seemed himself again. The shame in his eyes when he looked towards Simon, the uncomfortable awkward silence that always followed, and the stilted apologies, I didn’t mean too, it won’t happen again. Simon knew those words were empty, promises that never would last, but still, he took them

Because it was hard to stay angry at the person who hurt you when you loved them too much to even care in the first place.

Each time it happened, he swore to himself it would be different. That he’d get mad, rightfully so, he’d speak up, say something, anything. But when the moment came, the words never came with it: all that ever left his mouth was the same, hollow yet familiar words: I forgive you

That was the bitter cycle to it all: His father never changed and Simon never walked away

And now as he sat with it, finally an adult, practically eaten alive by regret and anger. Regret that he never spoke up, anger that he’d never get the chance too because part of him still believed and told himself that if his father were still here, he might’ve meant it this time.

But deep down, Simon knew that wasn’t true. He knew that even if his father stood in front of him, alive and sober, despite all the rage he felt, despite every scar he left behind mentally and physically, the only words that would leave his mouth would be the same ones he’d said his whole life: I forgive you

Because it was still the idea he missed of his father the most, the way he saw him when he was too little to see him for what he really was

divider creds - @hyuneskkami

[shinoko-oshi]

Florist x Grumpy neighbor

You noticed him when he first moved in: gruff and unapproachable. You’d catch glimpses of him around the apartment complex: tossing his laundry into the communal machines, occasionally rummaging through the mailroom for a package.

A permanent look of disinterest always seemly etched into his face. You originally thought maybe it was just his resting face. But from his short nods or annoyed grunts whenever someone tried to make small talk, the sharp glares he shot at anyone who persisted, proved it wasn’t.

You heard the talk around the building. Most people calling him a rude bastard, miserable even. The only ones who seemed to speak kindly of him were you and the old lady next door. Where others saw a miserable old asshole, you saw a man who always carried her groceries in, who stood and listened as she rambled on about her cats. It made you smile

Maybe that was why you started leaving flowers at his door. Since you had opened a flower shop not to long ago, every other morning you’d leave a fresh bundle of flowers on his doorstep, your way of brightening the space he clearly had no intentions in brightening himself. Occasionally you’d swap it a cactus, something low maintenance to ease him up to the idea of plants, plus it suited him in a way: prickly and sharp

You assumed it was working, since by the time you got back from your shifts each evening, the flowers were always gone. One by one each disappearing into his apartment without him ever mentioning a word.

He knew it was you: his chatty neighbor, always smiling, always thanking people when they called you sweet or kind before skipping off. He’d seen you coming home from work more than once, apron dusted with dirt, a flower shop’s logo faded across the front. If you thought you were being subtle, you weren’t, not even close

Though it wasn’t until his flat started looking more like a greenhouse than a home that he’d finally had enough and decided to confront you. Too early for his liking, he grabbed the tulips you’d left sitting on his doorstep and marched straight over to yours.

The second you opened the door, he wasted no time. “You keep leaving flowers at my door” he grumbled “My whole bloody apartment is full of ’em”

You blinked twice, slightly caught off guard by the sudden confrontation, and blurted tout the first thing that came to mind.

“Just… exercising my free will?”

Any other time, he might’ve laughed. But this wasn’t any other time, instead he just sighed, half annoyed and half too tired to be properly mad, he walked off.

And without fail the next morning, another bouquet of flowers was waiting on his step for him again. Black dahlias this time.

You watched from the corner of the wall, hidden just enough to see him roll his eyes before scooping them up and begrudgingly carrying them inside.

What you didn’t see though, was him later that night, slouched on his couch with one of the blooms pressed to his nose, fist wrapped around his cock, grunting as he came hard into his hand.

And as he stared at the sticky mess in his palm, chest heaving, he knew sooner or later, flowers wouldn’t be enough.

shit post

[shinoko-oshi]

why is is the moment I whip out my laptop to write smut everyone around me suddenly wants to know what im writing 😐

[shinoko-oshi]

When you've been a writer for long enough, commas become more of a spiritual practice than a grammatical one.

Could I explain the actual rules of how they’re used? Absolutely not.

Do I rely on sensing a tremor in the force to tell me where to use them? Yes and this has never failed me even once.

[shinoko-oshi]

Hooked

It started as hate.

At least, that’s what you told yourself

Riley had been your rival for years. Same unit, same training runs, same marks on your evaluations. He’d beat you out by a fraction one week, you’d beat him bloody the next. It was pure loathing hatred between the two of you, and it was supposed to stay that way.

Then one night, that hate spilled over into something else. The argument that caused a shove, ended with his mouth on yours, and him bending you over the nearest surface.

You hated him even more afterward.

But you went back

And back.

And again, until you made an agreement. Rivals with benefits. Nothing more.

Only somewhere along the line, Simon ruined you.

You didn’t realize it at first. A random guy at a bar had taken you home after a mission, and you thought it would be easy: get off, get out, forget about Riley. Except when guy kissed you, he kissed you too soft. He fucked too careful. When you tried to close your eyes and grind against him, it was useless. You’d left that bed unsatisfied, irritated, burning with an ache only one man could put out.

Then it happened again, and gain. Different men, different nights, same stupidly irritatingly result: nothing.

Not your hand, nor your toys, not even your best effort with porn and a vibrator cranked to max worked. You’d work yourself raw and never get over the edge.

But the second Simon’s thick fingers were inside you, curling just right, the second his tongue dragged over your clit or when his cock split you open into two.

You were gone.

Your body had betrayed you every time, arching for him and only him, clenching around him, cumming so hard you cried.

And you swore he knew.

It was in the way he smirked when you’d show up at his door, pretending you were just “bored” or “had a rough day” he’d mutter, “That’s it, sweetheart, knew you’d come crawling back” while his thumb rubbed into your swollen clit.

He’d fuck you slow sometimes, almost lazy, just to drag it out and prove you couldn’t get there without him.

“Bought yourself a toy, did you?” he’d rasp in your ear, fucking you into the mattress until your nails broke against his skin.

“Bet it’s in the bin already huh? Can’t do what I do, can it? Can’t ruin you the way I can”

And he was right. God, he was right, and it made you hate him more.

Now, every time you left his bed, sweaty and spent and furious at yourself, you promised it was the last time

And every time you ended up back there, on your knees, his cock down your throat while his hand tangled in your hair, you swore he’d done this on purpose. Hooked you and broke you.

Made sure the only way your body could remember pleasure was through him.

And if the smug bastard ever admitted it out loud?

You weren’t sure if you’d kill him first or beg him to fuck you harder.

[shinoko-oshi]

Does anyone remember that old trend where people would do rock paper scissors then whoever won got to eat whatever food they had in front of them and the loser had to run away the run back and they did rock paper scissors again and it cycled?

Well i remember when twitter got ahold of the trend and made it nfsw, where the food became a person and im not pointing fingers or anything but Johnny and Kyle would 100% be doing that with reader 👀

[shinoko-oshi]

[shinoko-oshi]

Pet peeve

Simon hated it.

Squeaky beds, well, more specifically, yours.

It didn’t even start because of sex.

No, it started whenever he shifted to get comfortable, or rolled over to pull you into his arms, and that godforsaken squeak shattered the peaceful silence.

What made it worse was that it always took him a while to settle, even longer to actually fall asleep. He was a big man. He knew that. But it drove him mad when he couldn’t so much as take a deep breath without that high pitched creak whining in his ear like the thing was on its last limb. It was past that point

When it did become about sex, though that was the final straw.

Every thrust came with a squeak. And your beautiful moans? Your bed had the audacity to drown them out.

So when you came back from the grocery store and saw your mangled bed frame sitting in the hallway, Simon sitting on the couch with his reading glasses on, scrolling through his phone and muttering something about a new frame, you didn’t say a word.

You just smiled, walking over to pressed a small kiss to his forehead.

[shinoko-oshi]

any shred of dignity I had left died here

[shinoko-oshi]

Idk how to title this

Handler!Simon with bunny!hybrid reader who no matter how much sex he gave you: whether it was his thick fingers knuckle deep inside your soaked cunt, pounding you into the mattress until you because a mess of incoherent words, or holding you down while he lapped at your pussy until you sobbed from overstimulation.

it was never enough. Not for a bunny like you.

Because without fail, you always ended up back in his lap, paws tugging at his shirt, giving him the same glassy eye stare that said: my problem is now your problem

The saying “fucking like rabbits” proving to be true. And Simon was starting to believe his cock might actually break at the rate you were going.

So, who else was he supposed to call? Other Johnny. A Wolf hybrid himself.

He didn’t even need convincing. Simon could practically hear the grin in his voice as he spoke: “Aye, mate, I’ll be there in ten”

And when Johnny finally showed up, he didn’t waste a single second. The moment his eyes landed on you, he pounced. You were just as eager, meeting his hunger with your own, and Simon sat back on the couch with an ice cold beer in hand, long legs kicked out as he prepared to watch.

If Kyle had been there, Simon was sure they’d both already be betting on who’d tire out first. Not a bad idea, maybe he’d call him next time.

For now, it was just you and Johnny.

And Christ, the wolf had stamina.

You went at it for hours, three, at least before you finally tried to curl up in Simon’s lap, body limp and spent, ears drooping. But Johnny wasn’t finished. With a wicked smirk, he pulled you back for round whatever you lost count, and then another after that.

By the time he was finally done, you were babbling nonsense, words spilling out in some made up language only you seemed to understand. Your body trembling with overstimulation, and Simon finally stepped in, scooping you up gently. He cleaned you up before tucking you into bed with a kiss to the forehead.

“Good lad” he muttered to Johnny on his way out. The wolf just smirked, looking like he could’ve gone for several more hours without breaking a sweat

And Simon got peaceful sleep that night, your body finally slack and nestled against his chest.

At least until next week.

Because when the hunger came back, it always did, Simon didn’t hesitate to call up Johnny.

And Kyle too.

[shinoko-oshi]

any writing tips?

I honestly can only think of two rn but the first one that comes to mind is this website, I use it about every time I write, I just try not overdo it because looking back at my old posts I lowkey did but everyone writing style is different so do whatever you want!

then idk if this really counts as a tip but out of everything it probably helped me the most, you just have to read other fan fiction it doesn’t really matter what it is but for example if you want to write good smut just read smut and kinda like take in how other people write it and incorporate it into your own style, if that makes sense? Ive been writing for a while but when i redownloaded tumblr back after a couple years which was only a few months ago, i picked back up on fanfic and started to read it more and i noticed a drastic change in the way I wrote. Even in stuff just from a few months and im honestly lowkey salty i never did this when i first started writing because i feel like only just a few months ago did my writing get good and thats all thanks to other people on this app

[shinoko-oshi]

Gentle violence

Simon wasn’t a violent man. Sure, he did violent things for work, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed them

He’d stayed up more nights than he or anyone else could count, head in his trembling scarred hands, wishing it would stop, the memories, the guilt he carried, the lump in his throat that still hurt even after he tried to swallow it.

Everyone he couldn’t save, the people he didn’t know and the people he did, the ones whose footsteps he recognized.

He wasn’t a violent person. Never wanted to be.

That’s why it hurt when that’s what people expected from him. when they saw his outside, his scarred and intimidating form, and just assumed the inside was the same. When partners wanted him to be rough and dominant in bed.

He tried, but couldn’t. The slaps they requested always landing too light, the hair pulling always hesitant, his grip loosening before it could ever sting.

He just wanted to be gentle with someone. Wanted someone to be gentle with him.

Someone he could kiss softly, cupping their jaw while they loosely ran their fingers through his hair.

Someone who’d trace his scars as they lay bare beside him, asking where each one was from, kissing away the pain and bad memories as he told them.

Then he met you.

“I… I’m just not, I like it gentle” you murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, the moonlight casting a faint glow through the room.

He smiled faintly.

“Yeah… I can do that”

I have too many different versions of Simon I’ve written for holy shit

[shinoko-oshi]

Welcome to Kinktober 2025!

As there wasn’t an official Kinktober prompt list last year, we’ve put together an unofficial one for 2025, along with an AO3 collection. The graphics were all made by @latte-cucumber, and she's also made a banner that you’re welcome to use for your Tumblr Kinktober posts:

More information

Kinktober is an October prompt challenge that’s been running in one form or another since 2016. There are three prompts for each day in October, and the challenge is to use one (or more!) of the prompts to create something for that day. If you don’t want to use any of the three daily prompts, you can swap them out for the bonus prompts at the bottom of the prompt list.

Our askbox is open for questions about how the challenge works or what the prompts mean.

Prompts

Masturbation – Orgasm Control – Incest

Coming Untouched – Ageplay – Kidnapping

Threesome – Nipple Clamps – Alien Abduction

Voyeurism – Sounding – Hypnosis

Finger Sucking – Wax Play – Dacryphilia

Outdoor Sex – Humiliation – Intoxication

Blindfolds – Chastity – Bloodplay

Webcam – Figging – Cages

Exhibitionism – Shibari – Tentacles

Oral Sex – Punishment – Consensual Non-Consent

Come Licking – Handcuffs – Somnophilia

Sex Work – Kneeling – Sissification

Dildos – Dom Bottom/Sub Top – Medical Play

Omegaverse – Possessive Sex – Choking/Gagging

Semi-Public – Object Insertion – Sex Pollen

Remote Control – High Protocol – Fire Play

Messy Sex – Service Kink – Anal Hooks

Size Queen – Dom/Sub – Genital Torture

Creampie – Sensory Deprivation – Electricity

Mirror Sex – Golden Shower – Dubcon

Rimming – Forced Orgasm – Monsterfucking

Quiet Sex – Crawling – Gunplay

Biting – Praise Kink – Enemas

Anal Sex – Gags – Noncon

Double Penetration – Impact Play – Pillory/Stocks

Lingerie – Cuckolding – Sex Robot

Hair Pulling – Animal Play – Gangbang

Multiple Orgasms – S&M – Needle Play

Body Worship – Omorashi – Full-Body Bondage

Breeding – Fucking Machine – Degradation

Hot Tub Sex – Foot Fetish – Writer’s Choice

Bonus prompts:

Aftercare

Fisting

Wall Sex

Sugar Baby

Uniform Kink

Free Use

Temporary/Permanent Marks

[shinoko-oshi]

Price is the do it for your girl or I will type of guy.

Don’t compliment her after she’s clearly spent time doing her hair and makeup before going out? Don’t worry, he’s already there, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and telling her how those earrings bring out her eyes.

Forget to open the door for her? He’s already there holding it wide open, with a hand resting on her lower back as he gives her a little nod to go ahead.

Let her struggle with carrying something heavy? He’s already taken it from her arms without a word, telling her not to strain herself.

And if you can’t make her cum? Well…he will.

In more ways than one too.

[shinoko-oshi]

Something something about having to teach Johnny, it was like trying herd a hyperactive puppy: his dumbass wouldn’t sit still or pay attention for more than even five minutes. So, you made up a game.

“Fourth president of the United States?” you questioned, hands teasing at the hem of your shirt, waiting for his answer.

“James…” He closed his eyes, gripping the chair’s cushions like they’d help him drag the name out of his head.

“Madison!”

You hummed in approval, pulling your shirt up over your head and tossing it aside.

“When was the Declaration of Independence signed?”

He groaned dramatically, burying his face in his hands. “Shit- fuck, luvie, I dunno-”

You tsked, reaching for your shirt, ready to put it back on, only for him to jolt upright like lightning struck.

“1776!” he yelled.

You smiled and tugged at the zipper on your pants, sliding them off and tossing them on the floor with your shirt, leaving you in nothing left but your underwear

“Mexican Revolution. What year?” you grinned, fingers hooked into the hem of your underwear.

“Uh- 1913?”

You tsked, reaching down to pick your shirt and pants back up.

“1909!” he blurted quickly.

You shook your head and slowly stepped back into your pants, holding your shirt up in anticipation, giving him one last chance to guess right before it went back on.

“1912!” he tried again, panic setting in.

“Sorry johnny” you tsked with no remorse as your shirt went back on, to which he whined.

“1910, idiot” Simon muttered from the armchair in the corner, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the whole thing unfold.

Kudos to you if you know what movie this is from, also made this gender neutral cus I don’t see many as much mlm / masc stuff in the cod community 😞

[shinoko-oshi]

WHY DOES WRITER’S BLOCK HIT SO BADD

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon’s substitute for cigarettes

Simon Riley, who was trying to quit smoking for you, his bird because for the first time in his life, he had a reason to want to live longer.

Easier said than done. He’d tried everything to keep his fingers from twitching, aching for the familiar weight of a cigarette. Candy, mints, toothpicks, gum. Every damn thing the internet recommended. Nothing worked.

Until he tried you.

Bending you over any and every surface. Stuffing your pretty cunt full of his cock until your legs trembled. Pressing his tongue against your clit until you came against his mouth, trembling and gasping his name.

And the problem— or rather, the solution was that Simon used to smoke multiple times a day, going through a pack in less than a week. Which meant he was bending you over just as often, Fucking you slow and deep, or hard and desperate, chasing relief in the only thing that worked better than nicotine.

Sure, your muscles ached, your body sore in the best way possible but the pros outweighed the cons. Because he was quitting. For you.

And after every session, he’d pull you into his arms, pressing lazy kisses to your forehead as you curled up against his chest. His rough fingers tracing circles over your bare skin, grounding himself in the reason he was fighting the urge at all.

Currently writing a Simon x reader, neighbor shortish fanfic 😗