simp-council

[simp-council]

ೃ࿔:･ trying to give clark a hickey

you shift closer in the dim glow of the lamp, your lips grazing the edge of his jaw, then lower in that slow and teasing way. you let your tongue drag across his skin until you find the spot just under his collarbone. the one you know would make anyone else melt. you kiss it. suck, just a little. just enough. then, you smooth over the spot with your tongue once again.

and…nothing. you pull back, squinting. with the tilt of your head, you try again—harder this time. you’re focused like a girl with a mission. clark watches, amusement dancing around his eyes. but still, no mark and no color. not even the faintest blush blooming under the skin. it’s like trying to bruise marble. you sit back, scratching your head and blinking at him. “okay. weird question.”

clark, propped up on one elbow, looks up at you with that soft, dopey smile like he’s already charmed and doesn’t know what for. “yeah?”

“do you…not bruise?”

he winces, sheepish. “oh. right. yeah, that’s—that’s a thing.”

you just stare at him. “you let me go at you like a vampire and didn’t think to mention that first?”

he shrugs, cheeks a little pink. “i didn’t wanna ruin your moment. you looked really focused.”

you groan and flop forward, burying your face in his chest. “clark.”

“in my defense,” he says, trying not to laugh, “this is the first time anyone’s been disappointed that they can’t injure me.” you hit him in the ribs—it does nothing. he peeks down at you. your brows are furrowed, lips pursed forward in pure thought. suddenly, your bare feet are padding on the wooden floors. you make a sharp turn into the bathroom and shuffle through your makeup bag. finally, you pull out the shiny tube.

he hears the click of the cap before he sees you again. you’re strutting back, hips swaying and smirking. your lips are twisted in triumph, the lipstick already slick across your mouth. clark’s still propped up against the pillows, watching you with that boyish, utterly doomed look on his face. “uh oh.”

you crawl onto the bed with the kind of slow, lethal grace that should be illegal. “stay still, superman.”

his eyes dart down to your mouth, then back up. “should i be scared?”

“yes,” you say sweetly, straddling his hips. he’s warm under you and still shirtless, still glowing faintly like he swallowed the sun. you grab his chin with two fingers, tilting his face, and then press your mouth to his neck. firmly, purposefully, slowly. you pull back to admire your work. a perfect crimson kiss blooms right beneath his jawline. “there,” you declare, victorious. “perfect.”

clark touches it, awestruck. “you vandalized me.”

you grin. “i claimed you.”

he sits up a little straighter, brows high. “this is your version of a kryptonian bonding ritual?”

“pretty much. and don’t wipe it off.”

“never.” he promises, all starry-eyes and solemn.

the next morning, he stumbles into the bathroom half-asleep, hair a riot of soft curls, rubbing at his eyes. he flicks on the light—bright, unforgiving—and freezes. his reflection blinks back at him, bleary and shirtless. his neck, his collarbone, and the swell of his shoulder are completely covered. your lipstick blooms across his skin. your smudged kisses in scarlet and rose, one dusted over his clavicle, another tucked just beneath his ear like a secret.

he exhales a laugh. quiet and disbelieving. his fingers skim over one of the stains, careful not to smudge it further. “yeah,” he murmurs to the empty room, lips twitching. “definitely claimed.”

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[simp-council]

wait omg would you be willing to expand on your post about clark not swearing during sex because that might be my favorite thing ever (like when i heard that first little ‘golly’ the first time i watched the movie i had instant heart eyes) im going feral over this thought <3

mdni

he doesn’t curse. not because he doesn’t want to—oh, he wants to. there are moments when you’re arching underneath him, whispering his name like a secret, tugging at his hair, making noises that short-circuit his brain, and all he wants to do is let the filth pour out. let it match the way he feels—desperate, undone, wrecked in ways that no prayer could fix.

but then he hears ma’s voice in the back of his mind. “clark, real men don’t curse. and especially not in front of a lady.” and it sticks. so instead of f-bombs, you get a breathless:

“you’re—golly, you’re somethin’ else, sweetheart.”

or a strangled, “jeez, you feel—so good, i—honest to god—”

his hands tremble where they hold your hips, like he’s trying not to grip too hard, trying not to lose control completely. like swearing would be the thing to tip him over the edge. “goodness,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, voice all shaky devotion. “you’re—gosh, you’re perfect.”

you tease him for it sometimes. call him boy scout when you kiss down his neck, laugh when he lets out a choked little jeez, but the truth is, it ruins you just as much. because this is a man who could crush buildings, move mountains, tear planets apart. and still, he’s gentle. still, he watches his mouth around you. still, he whispers golly when you make him come.

[simp-council]

play date

pairing: bang chan x afab!reader x seungmin

warnings: smut🔞!!!!!!, sub!chan, sub!seungmin, dom!reader, puppy play, humping, finger sucking, gagging, dirty talk

a/n: to everyone who wanted a pt 2 to seungmin’s section of sharing = caring, i hope you enjoy!!

you wonder if they’ll ever bring this up in conversation with each other or if it’s something they’ll never mention, save for shy passing glances and red ears.

the thought makes you chuckle. it took chan long enough to admit that this was something he wanted sometimes, so you doubt he’ll ever really bring it up willingly with seungmin. you’re brought back to the present when chan whines, and you coo when you notice he’s drooling against your thigh.

you’re perched on the edge of the bed, and your boyfriend is content on the floor on his knees. his two strong hands are wrapped around your calf, and his thick cock is slowly rutting against the soft skin of your leg. chan let’s out a low little mmrf? when you gently scratch at his scalp.

“come here boy,” you say to seungmin who’s still sitting on the far side of the bed. you whistle once, cocking your head and patting the side of the mattress beside your thigh. “you wanna come play with channie?”

seungmin gives you a hesitant nod and slowly but surely descends to the ground. you can’t really see him now that he’s on the floor, but you do see his dirty blond mop of hair bobbing as he crawls around the bed towards you and your boyfriend. how cute. you stretch your hand out to cup his cheek when he reaches you and places his chin on your thigh that chan isn’t occupying.

“you remember what i said last time, don’t you seungminnie? you do?” he nods. “what’d i say then?”

“that me an’ chan hyung can both be- both be your puppies,” seungmin responds dutifully, but that’s not all you said. you raise your eyebrows at him. “and you’ll watch. watch us when we… when we h-hump your legs.”

“that’s right, sweet boy! you’re so smart, aren’t you? you want your treat now?” you know he does, you know he does, you can feel him getting hard against your foot. you nudge his cock with your toes and his hips wiggle. all the while, chan is licking absently at your knee. “silly boy, you too.”

you see seungmin look at chan through his periphery, and he gives an experimental rut forward against your leg. it’s cute how seungmin’s breath leaves his body at once. he inhales harshly and shakily curls himself over your leg.

you bring both hands to seungmin’s cheeks to cup them, moving one to chan’s curly hair when he whines. you can’t choose who to look at, so you look back and forth between them.

“such beautiful boys, good boys. so handsome when you feel good.”

you feel chan’s hips pick up speed at your comment, and he lets out his first real moan of the night, watery and overwhelmed. you love chan like this, despite the fact that it embarrasses him to no end when it’s all said and done. you love to see him just let go, and you’re lucky that he lets you be part of that.

this is new for you both, though, with seungmin. he’s a welcome addition, and your boyfriend’s hard, leaky cock is an easy tell of how much he’s enjoying his friend being there too. just like your first time with seungmin, it’s a head rush. not many people can say they have two of the most beautiful men on the planet desperate and on their knees for them.

you whistle softly again and both chan and seungmin’s eyes snap to yours.

“open your mouth, tongue out,” you say. both boys comply easily, and you’re quick to bring your fingers to their mouths. you know how to play with chan, what he likes. he’s sucking on your fingers like they’re his favorite treat, so desperate to have your fingers in his mouth that he makes himself gag on them over and over again. you pull your fingers out and he grumbles.

“don’t fucking growl at me, bad dog.” you gently slap his tongue and you smirk when his eyebrows furrow. “don’t make me get the spray bottle,” you gibe.

seungmin…you don’t know what all he likes yet. you reckon he likes your fingers good enough, since he’s bobbing his head on them. his eyes are closed. bliss.

“mm, aww, i can feel how drippy your little cocks are. does it feel that good?” you ask, resting your palms on the bed behind you and reclining back. “come on, speak.”

“always- always feels so good. please, it’s. oh my gosh. you’re so good to puppy, i love you! love you. ‘m hard, it’s so hard for you,” chan babbles.

“good boy, channie, my good boy.” he nods. “why don’t you ask seungminnie how it feels?” chan lowers himself on his knees so he can rub himself harder against your lower leg. you see seungmin do the same, their knees are touching.

“‘s it good, seungminnie? ‘s it feel good?” your sweet boy asks, just like you said.

“hyung, it’s so good, i can’t,” seungmin turns to you, eyes teary. “please! i-i wanna cum, ‘m so close to cumming.”

you’re getting jostled left and right from how hard chan and seungmin are humping at your legs. you wish you could reach out and touch them, but you know if you lift your hands from the bed behind you you wouldn’t be able to hold your balance. luckily enough, it looks like they quite enjoy how indifferent you seem.

seungmin’s curled himself over your leg again, cheek pressed hard against your thigh. he can’t seem to keep his hands still, they’re traveling from your calf, up to your thigh, but they finally settle around your waist so he can grip onto your shirt. it can’t be a comfortable position, but he’s too close to care.

chan isn’t faring much better. he’s settled for sucking on the skin around your knee, arms hugged around your leg. his almond eyes are locked on yours.

“that’s it. my good boys, my sweet boys. yes, babies, cum for me. make a mess on me, you’ll just lick it up after, right? you’ll clean me up? my good fucking doggies.”

chan’s moans pick up when he cums, and he latches his teeth onto the skin of your knee to muffle his noises. seungmin shudders through his, fingers repeatedly clenching and unclenching the hem of your shirt.

it’s quiet in the room, the only noise you hear is that of chan and seungmin’s heavy breathing and occasional whimpering. seungmin finally detaches his smushed cheek from your thigh and turns back towards you and chan. his eyes fall on the darkening hickies that surround your knee and his eyes widen and glint, humor returning.

“have you ever thought about investing in a muzzle?”

[simp-council]

Cut From the Same Cloth.

Art by: urinecrust on tiktok!

Read it on ao3! (kudos appreciated)

pairing: stalker/human!hector x afab/stalker!reader

Summary: An alternate reality where you've taken up stalking your next-door neighbor, Hector, only to find out he has the same sick and filthy obsession for you.

Warnings: Obviously +18, this is literally porn in essay format. non-con voyeurism (hector hides under your bed), oral sex, pnv sex, mutual stalking, biting/marking. Let me know if I missed something!

Notes: I love writing alternate realities, so don't kill me. I wanted to stalk him as much as he did for the player. Hector has me WHIPPEDDDD he's been all over my fyp so I cracked my fingers and got to fucking WORK. Originally, this was gonna be a series, but I already have a series going, and I can't focus on one thing to save the life of me, so one-shot it is! If this gets a good amount of attention, I'll consider turning this into a series. (more notes at the end for no spoilers!)

Word Count: 5.0k

Additional Notes: need that submissive hvac system

You'd always been the obsessive type.

As a kid, you would often become attached to various things, alive or material. It never did get better as you got older. In fact, the right person would consider it worse than before. However, you weren't the right person. If anything, you thought of yourself as charming. Wouldn't it be nice to be worshipped? To be loved beyond comprehension? This was always your way of justifying a lot of your weird behaviors. And it was the same for your new obsession: your next-door neighbor.

You had only seen him once, when you ran into him while leaving your home. You had given him a smile possibly too wide that he returned with a flushed face and pouted lips. That was more than enough for you to fall for him. He avoided you like the plague after, but given that you both lived side by side in an apartment building, you could hear him plenty, and you reveled in this.

All the times he spoke, coughed, or cursed. You heard it. The walls weren't thin enough to distinctly make out words, but you knew what his voice sounded like, and that's what mattered to you. Even on the nights when he moaned out just a bit too loud, you heard and cherished it.

After a month of having your new crush, you had already collected two beloved keepsakes—a recording of his moans and a piece of mail addressed with his full name.

Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado.

Sort of a mouthful, not that you minded. But, for the sake of quickened pleasure, you preferred to moan just his first name as you dreamt of all the ways you could confess to him.

Hector, I love you.

Hector, I need you.

Hector, let me be yours as you are mine.

Never mind the fact that you had only witnessed his existence once. Still, you continued to trace the outline of what little memory you had of him in your mind. From his brown skin, curly hair, and bushy eyebrows, to his crooked nose and faded mustache. You didn't care if these were the only traits you could recover. It was a blessing to you, nonetheless, and got you off many times.

You did, however, start to wonder if he was genuinely avoiding you, given that you never saw him again after you'd seen him in the hallway. If it weren't for the occasional sneeze or cough, you would have thought he was dead.

You did attempt to take it upon yourself to perform several wellness checks on Hector, but you could never catch a time when his door wasn't attentively locked.

Were you ugly? Was your smile too tense? Weren't you easy on the eyes? Didn't he want to see you too?

Every time you questioned yourself, it made you hot with anger. Can he see how fucking hopeless it made you to live without him? How crazy you became just at the idea of him? You started to suspect that he'd been depriving you of his presence on purpose.

He liked it—loved it, actually, to see you wallow and sulk around like a lost puppy. It was a test; you were sure of it. A test to see if you needed him as severely as you said you did.

After a whole day of working at your customer service job, you became especially riled up. You passed by his door as you did daily, but this time you stopped. Hector continued to stay hidden in the confinements of his home. Shifting your feet, you placed yourself directly in front of what now looked like the gates of heaven to you. You let one gentle fist raise as you contemplated the idea of giving his door a knock. Would he answer? What would you say if he did? I love you?

You eventually gave up and trailed back home, still yearning for just one interaction.

As you lay awake in your bed that night, you recounted that same series of questions you were forced to ask with no answer to follow. As you stirred in your anger, you slowly let your hand trail down to the waistband of your shorts. You teased yourself, pretending as if Hector was the one controlling the pace. Once you eventually let your hand enter your pants, you danced around the fold of your lips, gently dipping your fingers in and out, not yet probing yourself as you continued with your odd fantasy.

"Please, Hector. Let me feel you." You shuttered.

You hoped for a second that he'd manifest from the darkness of your apartment to take care of you. You wished so badly that he'd sense your pain and ease you with a pleasure only he could provide. If only he'd take control.

What did he smell like? What were his hobbies? Did he think you were pretty? What would he say as he fucked you? Would he be sweet or controlling? Honestly, just getting to know what he felt like would've been a gift alone. Was it bigger in width or length? Did his erection have a curve? What made him hard? What did he prefer in a partner? It didn't matter. You could become anything he wanted you to be at the drop of a hat. You'd do anything.

You eventually became so bothered that you lost control and began penetrating yourself. With two filthy fingers, you found yourself stretched around your digits as you continued to call out for Hector.

That is, until you heard his voice.

It was soft but close enough that you heard exactly what he said.

Your name in a soft whimper.

You thought for a second that you might've been mistaken, considering how close it was. It sounded crystal clear, like he was in the room with you. You put your masturbation on pause as you contemplated your sanity. Were you so pent up with lust that you started to have audible hallucinations?

Then came a soft exhale. It was crisp, not like the muffled quality you were so used to. In fact, you had half a mind to believe it came from under you. In all honesty, if Hector really were under your bed, you would jump for fucking joy. Just the idea made you shiver with delight. So, for fun, you decided to take a look.

You gathered yourself out of bed and bent under to take a peak. Aside from the occasional dust bunnies, the space under your bed was usually clear. On any night, you could look under and see the moonlight reflect off the floor across the other side. However, there was now a black mass in place of the empty space. It took your eyes a second to not only adjust but comprehend what was in front of you. When you eventually did, you were met with the awkward face of,

Hector.

His eyes were wide like a deer in headlights, frozen in place, waiting for your reaction.

You took a short breath, letting your body fall back in disbelief.

He took this as disgust and immediately fumbled awkwardly from under your bed.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll leave. I'm leaving now." He couldn't even look at you as he rambled on, apologizing profusely as he scrambled to fix himself.

He was touching himself. Not just anywhere, but under your bed. It was perverted, disgusting, horrific even. But above all things, it was filthy.

And it was your type.

Just as Hector was about to rush out of your room, you grabbed hold of the cuff of his jeans. It made him trip slightly, but it also got his attention. He looked back at you, angling his head downward to meet your eyes. He'd been so quick with his attempted exit that you hadn't really gotten a chance to look at him. Now that he was out from under the shadows of your bed, you could take in his appearance, just as you did the first day you met him.

His face was flushed, presumably with embarrassment. He looked at you like he was about to pass out. This was accompanied by his ragged breath and shaky legs. It was cute, just as you knew he would be.

"Why are you rushing to leave?" You pleaded.

You'd finally gotten what you had wished for: mutual attraction. Which is what you also assumed he'd hoped for. So you couldn't understand why he would even fathom leaving you again.

"Don't you want me to?" He squeaked.

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"Did I say that? Come on, don't do this to me, Hector." You begged. It was slightly pathetic, but you were shamelessly desperate, and not an ounce of you could care less.

He raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised. You continued to look up at him, waiting for him to do anything. Letting go of his cuff, you watched the gears seemingly turn in his head. He looked at the exposed window in your room for a breath and then shuffled his feet to face you. You almost lost your breath as he squatted down to your level, his face now inches from yours. You felt your jaw falter as you became lost in his appearance. His mustache was fuller than before, as were his eyebrows. His brown skin was glossed with sweat that you knew would taste just as delicious as it smelled. One more second, and you would've taken your tongue to lick up the sweetness that seeped from his flesh.

He turned away from you with the same pouty lips he had in the hallway.

"Please, don't stare at me. I can't tell if you're disappointed or not." He mumbled.

His voice was meek. You could tell he wasn't much of a stand-up guy, given how hesitant he was in front of you. Was this the test? Was he behaving like this to see if you really were desperate? You finally had him, or would eventually have him. Not only that, but he presented himself to you. How sweet was he to not only return your affection but to stay.

"Disappointed?" You hurriedly closed the gap between you. With one swift motion, you took your tongue and slid it across his shut lips.

This was your way of giving your beloved consent, not that you felt he needed it. If he wanted you, he could've had you.

You leaned away for a moment to catch a glimpse of his reaction. He fell back, unable to handle his weight after your cheeky taste. He then lifted a shaky hand to cover his now immensely flustered expression.

"I've seen you already, haven't I? Hector. Valentino. Airnesto. Condicionado." You made sure to emphasize how well-known he was to you. How much care you had put into getting to know him with what little material he'd given you.

"If I was disappointed, would I be so eager to fuck you?" You leaned back into Hector's bubble, letting your hot whispers caress his slick neck.

You felt him shift under you with one nervous whimper. The faint light from the lamp on your bedside reflected off his sticky neck. Just one more inch and your teeth would collide into his sweet skin, finally getting to know what he tasted like.

"Ah, you, uh, know my full name." He sighed, his voice trembling with every word.

"Is that bad?" You replied without a beat, taking a moment to look at him from under his chin.

He fumbled over his words, taking quick looks at you before averting his eyes with growing embarrassment.

"No. It's just, well." You knew he had more to add to that thought; however, you became too impulsive at the moment.

Letting your greedy mouth take control, you began to suck at the side of Hector's neck. With every suckle, you listened as he attempted to put his thoughts into words rather than gibberish.

"God, I can't, my love, when you, please..." He tried to push you off with one weak hand to no avail.

He tasted rather salty in a way that made sense to you. It was gritty, rich, and a bit sour. Overall, it wasn't a bad taste by any means.

"I can't, I can't meet you like this." He whined.

"I'm sorry for being so desperate. Fuck!" He let out a tiny yelp once you added your teeth.

Once you had finished sucking, you unlatched your teeth from his neck. You looked at the spot you'd been working on to find a dark, purplish hickey in its place. A disgusting grin spread across your lips as you admired your creation.

As if you'd sucked out all of his energy from one kiss, he fell back now with his body entirely on the floor and under you. Seeing him sprawled out on your floor was practically a dream come true. What would you do with him first? Get to know him or get straight to business?

"This isn't how it was supposed to go!" Hector whined again, his body trembling as he attempted to slide out from under you.

"I was supposed to take you out first, get to know you, make your night. I was supposed to court you like a gentleman!" He haphazardly cupped one side of his face with one hand as he moved up.

You countered his attempts by stepping over him with every shuffle backward.

"Please, my love. I can't have you like this." He pleaded with you.

"You're a hypocrite, you know that, Hector?" You chuckled.

"You need to court me? Be a gentleman? Do gentlemen hide under the beds of the people they plan to pursue?"

He'd crawled out to the middle of your living room, making no progress in the sheepish attempt to escape from under you.

"I'm sorry, I truly meant to be patient, but after countless nights of hearing you moan my name, it was hard to stay forbearing." He finally looked up at you, meeting your eyes with a sulking expression.

"I don't need your apologies. Neither do I need you to woo me properly." You knelt your head back down to meet him almost at his lips.

"Wanna know the best way to win me over?" You snarled with bated breath.

Hector eagerly nodded his head.

"With every ounce of my being." He whispered back at you.

You cut the remaining inch between you and planted a gentle kiss on his warm yet dry lips.

"Fuck me." It was rather forward, but there was no other way to say it. You needed him.

He followed your lips as they left his, yearning to meet them again in the middle.

"Ok, I can, I can do that for you." He mumbled, returning the kiss with a more hastened attitude.

You found a comfortable spot on his lap as you finally laid your body onto Hector. With the way that you were positioned, you could feel the outline of his hard-on prodding at your pussy through the fabric of both his and your pants. It was wonderful—this moment of intimacy you could finally behold. You were on top of your cherished next-door neighbor, and kissing him at that.

After a minute of tender kisses, Hector let his hands finally touch you. Your whole body shivered as they began to roam across whatever exposed skin you had. He started at your shoulders, and soon his fingers traced down your arms, then to your back, where he rolled up the bottom of your loose tank to travel up your spine. You had planned to take advantage of the position you were both in by exploring every inch of Hector's skin, but he kept you low to him while slowly working towards eliminating your tank top. You let a series of small moans spill from your lips into the kiss. You felt his lips curl into a cheeky smile before you had to break the contact to finally remove your top.

"Contain yourself, my love. We haven't even started." Hector chuckled, still slightly awkward, but he was beginning to become more charming nonetheless.

Your chest was now exposed to him, given that you weren't ever wearing a bra. He tried to take a good look to marvel at the shape, but soon he became preoccupied again with marrying his lips against yours. So, he left it up to his hands to get to know every inch of them. He fondled your breasts with such a gentle touch that it was almost as if he believed they would shatter if he were to apply any more pressure.

You broke the kiss, which earned you some complaints in the form of whimpers from Hector. While it was cute, you paid no mind to it. Instead, you became concerned with something else: the skin under his shirt. He kept his warm hands on your breasts, groping and pinching at the tips of your nipples while you slid your hands under his top. Your fingers slowly started to become acquainted with the details of his exterior. This was, however, a challenging feat to accomplish because, with every pinch Hector gave your nipples, you tensed up with unfathomable pleasure. You felt your arms stall at his chest hair as you tried to twirl the hairs between your fingers to no avail. You didn't think you would ever be this sensitive, but soon you found yourself trembling from his comforting touch.

"Something wrong?" He cooed.

You could only whimper in response, which was pleasantly pathetic. The palms of his now increasingly hot hands slid off your delicate chest, down the sides of your quivering torso, finally finding themselves at the waistband of your shorts. With one sly finger, he tugged at the fabric, watching—waiting for your reaction.

You didn't realize it, but you'd closed your eyes shut, and it didn't occur to you until you had felt the sensation of his fingers creeping into your pants. You looked at him with eager eyes that he read immediately. Sitting up, Hector shifted his arms to cradle you as he turned the tables on you. You soon found yourself in the position he was in just a moment ago, under you. Your bare back lightly hit the cold floor, and once you were settled, he began to remove not only your shorts but your underwear as well. It was apparent that he was just as anxious to get what he'd wanted, just as you were.

"I do want to apologize for my growing absence, my beauty." He was practically salivating as he knelt down to face the entrance of your aching core.

You tried to keep a keen eye on Hector by elevating your body with your elbows, but you became so nervous that your head fell back, leaving everything he did as a surprise.

He parted your folds with two fingers and began to practically talk into your entrance.

"It was, embarrassing, to even consider showing my face after our premature meeting."

His hot breath played with the sticky skin of your cunt. With every flattering word that hit your filthy flesh, you grew more flushed and impatient. He was just as desirous but enjoyed watching you yearn for whatever—however he planned to please you. He was certainly at your service, but he planned to take his time just relishing in this newfound intimacy. He toyed with the idea of making you beg, but his lust was already unbearable. Besides, he couldn't fathom the thought of your sad puppy dog eyes as you whined for his touch. He didn't need the confirmation. Hector already knew how badly your body craved his. After all, he'd spent nights listening to your desperate yet soft cries of delectation. He couldn't bear to listen to them any longer.

With his searing tongue, Hector began to indulge in your flesh. You both had more to say to each other, but with the growing tension in the air, neither of you could take it. So straight to business it was.

Pleasure took control of you in the form of various sounds and twitches. Your hands attempted to grasp at the solid floor while your toes curled over themselves. As Hector sampled every inch of your cunt, he took one of your legs and applied it onto his shoulder. He couldn't determine if he wanted to savor your reaction or taste. For the most part, it was both. While he worshipped you with his tongue, he made sure to revel in every whimper, every moan, and every grunt that made its way from your mouth. It was his work, after all.

Soon, Hector snuck a thick digit into you, which made you yelp in shock. He chuckled while keeping his warm mouth on you. The feeling of his one finger was surprisingly different from your two fingers. Maybe it was because you weren't the one controlling the pace or the pressure. However, giving it some more thought, it was odd. He used his finger as if he were more concerned with finding a specific spot. It soon became frustrating the more he continued.

You finally let your head fall forward to look down at Hector. Once your eyes hit him, you were met with a pair of cunning yet awkward eyes staring back at you. He took his mouth off your clit just enough for you to hear him talk yet also just enough for you to feel the heat of every word.

"Unsatisfying, right?" He snickered.

You furrowed your brow at him, making him laugh harder. He was playing with you, but you couldn't determine his purpose. Frankly, he was fascinated by how you needed him so badly. To say he was aware of your obsession with him would be a significant understatement. The first time he'd heard his own name whimpered through the thin wall of his apartment, he wanted to—well, he didn't really know what he wanted to do. He never thought you would actually take a liking to him ever.

Truth be told, he was the one who liked you first. The day you knocked on his door to introduce yourself after you had moved in, he never answered. But he watched you through the peephole, too nervous to open the door. He saw your sweet, confused face as you left and vowed that one day, he'd work up the courage to ask you out. The only problem for him was his "plain face" and "ugly features". So he kept you waiting for a day when that courage came. If it weren't for how desperate he was to be near you, you would've never seen him again.

"Alright, I'll do it properly." He promised, and soon, his lips found themselves latched onto your now puffy clit while his finger pumped in and out of you at a tantalizing pace.

Once he added a second finger in the mix, it was over. You felt the heat in you boil up as you grew closer and closer to your peak. The way his tongue was shockingly attentive made you eerily jealous. How was he so good? Why was he so good? Was he with others before you? How much practice had he had?

"How are you so good-!" Your growing anger was cut off by pleasure boiling over.

He made you cum. Quicker than you could've ever managed by yourself. It was slightly embarrassing how fast he drew that out of you, but then that shame morphed into agitation as he kept going.

"I came! You can stop, please!" You whined, giving him a tiny slap on the head.

He let out a small grunt but never let up. He helped you ride out your orgasm and then some. You became dizzy and frustrated by the constant feeling of lips licking and lapping at you like a lollipop. Your whines became louder, and the pumping of his fingers grew faster. It wasn't long before he sucked another orgasm out of you. Your body fell back onto the ground as you shivered with overwhelming delight. You almost felt tears collect in the corners of your eyes. It was too much. Thankfully, he finally had his fill after you came a second time.

He crawled up away from your cunt and back up to your rosy face with delicate eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's just that, your taste is something heavenly. I felt increasingly like a ravenous dog as I ate from your sweet, sweet skin, my love." He shuttered a bit as he whispered close to your face.

You could smell yourself on his breath. It was, enthralling, to say the least. You both stared at each other for a minute, taking in the different details that made up the other person. Hector's eyes practically glowed in the darkness of your living room. He was in love, and it was plastered all over his pussy drunken face. You must've made a particularly needy face because suddenly, he leaned back and began to unbutton his pants. You scooted from under him and sat up, watching as he messed with his pants. It was funny; he was fumbling to button up his jeans just a moment ago. Now, here he was, desperate to do the opposite.

"Do you need me to tie my hair up?" You asked.

He froze and peered up at you in confusion.

"What, what do you mean?"

You froze yourself.

"What do you mean what do I mean?" You questioned. "Don't you want me to suck you off?"

"Oh. Hardly." He remarked like it was the most casual thing you could've asked.

He continued to undo the zipper of his jeans as you sat there in puzzlement.

"...Why?" You finally managed to say.

"Do you think I've been blue balling myself just to finally get a blow job? I'm sure your mouth would be something else, but I've waited too long, my love."

Without a second more, Hector pulled his already erect cock out from his jeans. Finally, you could have multiple answers to the plethora of questions you'd asked yourself plenty of nights. It was just slightly bigger in width than length. The size was quite normal but big enough to where you knew it'd hit all corners. He was also circumcised, and no, he did not have a curved erection.

You stared at his penis for longer than you should've. It was as if you'd found the correct puzzle piece, and now the picture would finally come together.

"And I'm sure you've waited too long, too, no?" He purred before scooting your body closer to his.

Your ass made an embarrassingly loud squeak as it slid across the floor. However, neither of you paid any mind because soon, Hector would be inside of you.

You let your body fall to the floor again as he lined his cock up to the entrance of your slick cunt. Slowly, he began to press it into you while holding your hips. This, of course, drew out a variety of different whimpers and whines. It wasn't entirely painful, but it was vastly different in comparison to just your two fingers. Once he bottomed you out, he looked at you and never let his eyes leave you again. You gazed back at him with a drunken expression and mopey lips. He smiled at you. It wasn't a malicious grin but a smile that matched the same tenderness that had run through him since the beginning. He began to pump in and out of you, watching the dissimilar faces that your features contorted into.

"You have a lovely face when you cum." He whimpered with a very meek voice.

You tried to remark with something but were too lost in the embrace of Hector to even think of what you'd say. This is how it went for the next five minutes. He would feed you sweet nothings, possibly fishing for a slurred yet coherent response, only to be met with a series of loud whines and gibberish. Through the sounds of slaps and your own enjoyment, you could hear Hector's voice begin to crack with every other sentence. Almost as if he was about to finish.

"Did you want to try a different position, my love? Or-!" Before he could conclude whatever he meant to say, he came.

It was fast. Quicker than you thought sex with Hector would be like. You felt his hot semen flood into you as he grunted and whimpered, tightening his grip on your hips as he whined the words, "I'm sorry!"

You watched as he averted his eyes from you with a guilty expression. Shivering, you propped yourself up and out of his lap with your hands. His penis slid out of you as you moved, and soon you felt his sperm do the same. You placed a gentle but shaky hand on his cheek, guiding his face back to yours. The remaining arm holding you up felt like jello. He'd somehow drained every bit of you. If he had came too fast this time, you didn't even want to imagine what sex would be like on his good days. His eyes found your face again, and he placed his now sticky hand atop yours. Another lovely smile painted itself across his lips, and like a disease, his visual delight spread to you. A grin likewise of the same loveliness soon laid itself on your face.

Nothing was said at that moment. The silence between the both of you was enough to say what needed to be said.

"I love you."

Well, maybe a couple of words needed to be spoken.

Regardless of the timing and the duration of what happened between you. It was still bound to be the start of a rather eccentric relationship. You were made for each other, and nothing would be better.

"I love you, too."

End Notes: I was originally going to include a plethora of things. Hector was actually going to drill a hole in your wall, but I didn't know how I'd make that work. I was also going to have you and Hector go a second round, but again, I'm unmedicated, and if I randomly go to TikTok instead of finishing my fanfiction again, I WILL kill myself. ALSOOO i want this blog to be filled with hector for a month so PLEASE if you want anything hector REQUEST IT!

[simp-council]

Date Everything! Hector x GN!Reader +18

Content Warning: Stalker Behavior, Somnophilia, Usual Hector Behavior.

It had been achingly lustful to listen to Hector’s erotica reading. He saw how your cheeks flushed when he glanced up from his book, he saw how you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. He was… turning you on. Oh god, he thought he would never see the day! He was so- so hideously disgusting, a freak. Yet you squirmed in delight at hearing his voice through the vent. Granted, it was the voice he put on for you, slightly more dark and gravelly. After all, he noticed how you seemed to like talking to Dorian.

He hated how you flitted and flirted with everyone else in the house. Hector saw it all- how you bounced and whimpered on Koa’s lap as he let you ride him with your moans mixing with his, how carefully and strong Daisuke fingered you open, those quickies in the shower with Johnny? As much as Hector hated seeing you with the other objects, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

His heart dropped when you entered the attic, though. Your eyes flickered to him- but all you saw was the HVAC. He thanked every god that he knew of that he was still in the vents when you decided to look his way. All you saw was the actual air conditioning unit. Instead of you going to him though, you turned your back promptly and focused on Parker.

Hector had never felt such a burning sense of jealousy. You seemed to flirt with him especially hard. You seemed to revel in the way Parker squirmed and blushed under your actions and honeyed words. The next day you came back to Parker(completely forgetting to talk to him, by the way!!! But of course, Hector forgave you. He always forgave you. After all, you were a perfection incarnate.)

You stripped down to your underwear in front of Parker. Hector saw you do it. He saw how you basically performed a strip tease for that bunch of board games not 4 feet away from himself. When you coaxed Parker to do the same, Hector bit his lip in jealousy as you praised his body. Is that the type of man you liked? Lanky, lithe, and neurotic? Well, Hector was certainly neurotic to a degree, but not at all lanky or lithe. Hector blinked away a welling of tears as he was suddenly very aware of how he looked. Of course you would think he was hideous if you saw him.

Parker asked if you were staring at his nipples. You responded that you couldn’t help but stare at everything. Parker stumbled over his words and frantically moved his hands around in a flustered motion as he quickly got re-dressed. Parker didn’t know how lucky he was- to first of all, see you in such a revealed state- and 2, be praised for his body by his god!

After your little… experience with Parker, you whispered something in his ear, your breath must have ticked the man’s as he flushed a crimson that couldn’t be healthy. He nodded and dove into his pack of games, before he handed you a piece of fabric with a nervous laugh. 

It was pretty late when you left the attic, but you still managed to squeeze in a little chitchat with Ben-Hwa, who seemed over the moon with what you told them in a hushed tone. They gave you a hug, then bid you goodnight as they went to bed themself. You squeaked in delight and turned on the bedside lamp as you wrote something down hurriedly. Once you were done, you tiptoed to the edge of the vent- his vent!- and slipped the note in.

“Watch me tonight. I know you don’t want to show your body to me, so I’ll wear a blindfold to sleep. If you want, you can have fun with my body while I’m asleep. I love you, Hector. XXX”

Hector stayed completely still as your fingers slipped away from his grate. That was the closest he had ever gotten to touching you- you had no idea, but you were mere centimeters from the tips of his fingers! He let out a staggered breath of disbelief. Were you offering yourself to him? Physically? Would he be able to actually touch you? Oh god, the way he yearned for you, the amount of times that he’s rubbed himself against the vents to the sight of you! Wait, what did you mean by watch you?-

“Hector…” You breathed out softly, which snapped him back to reality. You had taken off all your clothes and put the blindfold on. He whimpered softly, yet cursed himself for not watching you strip. You played with yourself, teased yourself for him with your legs spread wide open. It was a show just for him. Not a little voyeuristic hatewatch as you got sullied by god-knows-who-that-hour, it was just for him. He watched as you fingered yourself open, he heard you whimper and whine for him. He could feel his erection strain as it begged for attention. No, he couldn’t touch himself- touching himself would be a(minor) distraction to what you were doing!

“Hector, touch me. Love me.” You begged softly as you caressed your own cheek in a loving fashion. “Show me how much you love me. Don’t fuck me tonight, make love to me.”

Hector nodded fervently as he mouthed his desperation to you. “My love- oh my love, I promise I will. You command it, I obey. I need you like you need air to breathe. I yearn for you like no other possibly could. You’re my angel, you’re my perfection- my god. I would worship at the altar of your body every moment of the day if you gave me the honor.”

Your show was certainly appreciated, you could tell by how sweltering the heat was from the HVAC. You smiled to yourself as you neared your edge. That’s when you planned your final strike. 

“Holy fuck Hector, I love you so much- I need you inside me, sweet boy.” You gasped as you came. Hector couldn’t believe what he heard. Of course, he had heard your declarations of love to the other objects… but this felt so much more meaningful! You never masturbated to the thought of anyone in the house, you simply had sex with them. No, you called for him. You ached and moaned for him. You begged for him, and what heathen would he be to deny you?

So, after he was sure you were asleep, Hector slipped out of his vent system, creeped his way out of the attic, and just… stared at you. He stared for a few moments as he drank in the sight of you. Your legs were still spread, you were still prepared for penetration for the most part, your blindfold was on- although there was a spurning of jealousy when he saw the embroidery of “Player 2” on the covering. No, no! He wouldn’t let anyone ruin this for him! So, as quietly as he could, Hector carefully took off all his clothing at the edge of your bed. He didn’t deserve to have his belongings on your place of rest, so he placed them on the floor. Once he was naked, he stared again as nerves overtook him. Was this really right? You did invite him, but still!

Well, he was already here, you invited him to “have fun with your body”, so he got into bed with you and snuggled against your warmth. He stroked your cheek in a similar way to how you showed him to, he brushed the stray hairs out of your face, and he simply admired you close up for the first time. He wanted to kiss you so bad- but he didn’t deserve it! He couldn’t mar and stain your body with his affections!

But you had wanted him to. 

You begged him to not 30 minutes ago.

So, Hector pressed the softest of kisses to your cheek. Once he started though, he couldn’t stop. He kissed your cheeks over and over, your temple, down your throat and over your clavicle- hell, he was so obsessed with his peppering of devotion that he didn’t realize that he was above you, in between your legs, with a raging boner. 

“My love, f-forgive me.” He whispered in his real voice- the anxious, soft-spoken one as he kissed down your body. “I need you, I need you so badly that it pains me.”

The kisses trailed to your stomach, then to your pelvis and thighs. Hector was face-to-sex with your… well, sex. His mouth watered. He needed to know what you tasted like. So, he licked. He licked, whined, and savored every mote of taste he got of you. He eventually started to use his fingers as well, just in case you needed a little extra loosening along the way when he- he… made love to you.

Hector still didn’t fully have control of himself, it all felt like a haze of love and lust as he lined himself up to you. You moved slightly in your sleep, and Hector’s blood ran cold. He froze for a few moments, then kissed your temple again and traced his dick around the edge of your opening. Hector whimpered softly as he let the tip of his dick kiss the center briefly. He took a shuddering breath, then pushed inside you.

Tight. Hot. Good-no, perfect.

Hector couldn’t help the groan of need that ripped from his throat as he pushed himself inside you. You let out a sigh in your sleep as he sank slowly into you. Once he was fully seated, he took a moment to collect himself. If he didn’t, the first thrust would be his last. He caressed your body reverently, his gentle hand that wasn’t holding himself above you lulled you into an even deeper slumber as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.” He breathed out as he retreated from your depths.

“I love you.” He sighed as he went back in.

In and out, he sang his devotion to you like a saving prayer. The pace was achingly slow. If you were awake, you would have begged him to go faster ages ago.

“Oh, my love- my love, I’m not worthy to be like this- so wretchedly inside you, but you asked- you pleaded for me. I cannot deny you anything, my love.” Hector monologued into your ear as he started to thrust properly. 

“I only wish I could make this last forever, but alas- I- I need to cum so badly-!” Hector whined as he pulled out of you. 

He removed himself from your bed and reached for a little rag that was in his pants pocket. Over top of you, he masturbated. He slid his rag-clothed hand over his length as he watched you.

“I could never ruin you like that, my dear. I’m not worthy- I’m not allowed to mar you with my cum.” He solemnly nodded. “Rest assured, my sweet, this encounter will be my everything.”

It wasn’t long before Hector bit his lip and came with a shudder into the rag. He pumped is dick a few times as he soaked his cloth with his release. He twitched and huffed out your name as he came, and when he was done, he laid down on top of you with his head in the crook of your neck.

“I love you so much.” Hector sighed contentedly. 

After a few moments in his afterglow, Hector moved off of you and dressed himself- he folded the rag mess-side-inward and stuffed it back in his pocket as he looked at you one final time.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me.” He hummed sweetly as he made his way back into the attic.

[simp-council]

you can hear it in the silence

summary: you have had an insane crush on Clark since he moved to metropolis, but thank god he has no idea about the way he makes your heart skip a bear every time he smiles (honey, you've got a big storm comin') wc:  1k+  a/n:  Please feel free to send any requests my way!  warnings: general fluff, reader owns a bookstore, reader has no idea about clark's powers, as always the title is from a Taylor Swift song- sue me

“It’s not a big deal, Clark.” you insist, phone squished between your ear and your shoulder. 

“It’s a big deal to me.” he insists, an unusual heaviness to his voice. 

“It will take a while, but I'll manage, I mostly just called to complain.” You surveyed the boxes stacked up in front of the storefront, hands on your hips and a frown playing at the corner of your lips. When your grandmother had left you her quaint bookstore in downtown Metropolis, you had half a mind to sell it off to the first interested buyer. You’d gone as far as contacting a realtor, but cancelled the first showing at the last minute. 

Too much of your childhood was nestled in between the children’s books and the non fiction shelves, too many memories of your grandmother hosting story time and holding copies of the new releases you’ve been dying for to be able to part with it. 

You’d given everyone the day off, a few employees were headed to a festival in the park, someone was on a family vacation and overall, it was meant to be a slow day at the shop. And it was, until the delivery man left you with 30 hulking boxes of new release hard covers. Worse yet, it looked like it was going to rain. 

“I’m on my break, I’ll head over.” 

It was pointless, to argue, once Clark had an idea in his head, he was stubborn. But you were a bit of a slow learner. “By the time you get here your break is going to be awful. I’m sure that traffic is terrible because of the festival.” 

“You have such little faith in me!” you turned to find Clark a ways down the block, arms stretched out, his suit just a big too big on his frame. His hair was windswept, glasses slightly crooked perched on his nose. He jogged towards you, a goofy smile on his face. 

“How do you keep doing this?” If you didn’t know better, you would swear that Clark was psychic. He was somehow always exactly where you needed him to be. 

Clark slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his side for a moment. “Just gifted I guess.” He gave you another squeeze before releasing you and stepping back to assess the situation. “You sure you ordered enough?” 

You playfully shoved him, but he didn’t even wobble. Clark had been your rock ever since he moved into the city. You’d been close falling off a ladder, stretching to dust the top of a shelf when the ladder had begun to tilt. He’d tripped over a stack of books on the way, but he managed to prop the ladder back upright, you along with it. “We have that signing in a couple weeks, didn’t want to run out.” 

All he did was nod, shrugging off his suit jacket that somehow was just a bit too big for his frame and rolled up the sleeves of his white button down. “We’ll take care of it,” he said, voice sure. And with the way he managed to lift three of the boxes as if they were full of pillows, you were inclined to believe him. 

It had taken the two of you all of five minutes to get everything inside, not that Clark had allowed you to move more than the first box. “You make a way better doorman anyways.” He joked without malice. You were leaning up against the counter, your shoulder bumping into his arm. 

“Don’t say I never do anything for you, Clark.” 

“I never would.” Your gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, but you could feel the intensity in his gaze burning into the side of your head, regardless. You settle for leaning a bit of your weight against him, taking comfort in his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you close. 

“Wait,” you turned, nearly crawling across the counter to wake up the computer sitting on the other side of the counter. “You’re going to be late!” 

“When have I ever been late?” you could hear the laughter in his voice, but you ignored it in favor of grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. You grabbed his shoulders, and mercifully he let you guide him to the door. You knew from past experience if he didn’t want to go, there was no way to move him. 

“Last week, I was stranded at the Thai place down the street!” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, leaning against the doorway and pushing the curls resting on his forehead away with the back of his hand. He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “For how long?” 

“That’s not the point, you presented the information as an objective truth!” you resisted the urge to stomp your foot, he was already looking pointedly at your crossed arms and making the face he does when he’s trying not to laugh in your face. 

“I asked a question, I think the trouble lies in your interpretation.” He was leaning down to meet your eyes, and you were thankful there was no way he could hear the way your heart was pounding. "And it was only five minutes."

You shoved him gently, ignoring the fact that he didn’t so much as wobble. “You’re going to be late, go!” You both paused, the moment heavy between you. All you could focus on was the rise and fall of his chest under your hands for a few moments. One of his hands rested over both of yours, squeezing briefly before stepping back and letting your hands drop. 

“Be careful on the ladder this time.” 

“Go!” 

He lingered for a few moments longer, giving you a final once over before nodding to himself and spinning on his heel. After a few steps, he turned around to face you, his head sticking up above the crowd of people on the sidewalk. “We still on for dinner?” 

“Late!” you laughed, waving him off. He raised his eyebrows, unphased by the people forced to part around him. “Yes! Now go!” 

You stood in the doorway, watching him duck and dodge the other pedestrians for longer than you would admit, thankful that he hadn’t turned and caught you. 

Unfortunately for you, even in a crowd of people with his back turned, he couldn’t help but be aware of you. You just didn’t know it yet.

[simp-council]

YOU SAVE CLARK KENT

Word count: 604 words

A/N: written this based off the new teaser that dropped - so excited to watch it!!! <3<3

All Clark could make out through his swollen bloodshot eyes was the fountain of blood swirling with the ice, like a cocktail of his own wasted fortune. He was curled up in a ball encased in the snow, squeezing his legs to his chest as if that could bring relief, heaving heavily like a horse drawing its final breath.

He was known to be a man immune to pain, naturally superseding everything that had intentions of harming him; Clark had never not been in control of himself.

Right now, he had no knowledge, nor experience on how to process the depths of this agony that was slowly eating him alive. Spasms took hold of his legs, twitching sporadically. Something evil had attached itself to his chest, pinning him down and crushing his bones so every breath felt like a challenge he was close to losing. Hell, he wanted to lose—he wanted to give up and accept his demise with open arms. Death would care for him, tend to his wounds, free him from the shackles of this unbearable suffering.

His eyes obediently shut as his body slowed, preparing for the transition; he had accepted.

As he readied to draw in one last breath… it was like a balloon had popped in his brain, snapping his eyes open with vigour.

You, he thought.

You, with your chesty laughter, so contagious that passersby would walk past with a faint hint of a smile caught to their face.

You, who had spent so long organising Clark’s birthday party in secret, calling up every person you had seen him interact with - including the random shopkeepers who Superman would quietly serve as an off the books bodyguard for - and inviting them for the big do. Clark didn’t have the heart to admit that he knew what you were planning from the very first day, because he had accidentally listened to your phone calls halfway across town with his super-hearing on one of his patrols—but he’d never let slip because, well… no one had ever loved him enough to do something like that for him.

You, whose nose, like it had a mind of its own, subconsciously crinkled in joy that was reserved for Clark and Clark only, the person who gave you the meaning to smile in the first place. Your body was a flower that bloomed in Clark’s presence.

You, who if you were here, right now, would be screaming at his stupid face, spit foaming at the mouth: GET UP!

Groaning, Clark spat whatever remaining blood had stagnated in his mouth out onto the snow, saliva dribbling down his frozen lips. With a pucker of his lips, he let out a weak but determined whistle. It was low, and feeble, but it was a noise, and it was alive.

In immediate response, a crescendo of noise came bounding towards him, growing larger by each second. As Clark lifted his eyelids open once more, a scruffy white dog was sniffing at his face, announcing its arrival.

Bang!

Clark choked out a pained wheeze as the dog began bouncing straight onto his chest, his paws digging like a little psychopath into every scrape and cut that littered his body. Probably sent as a message from you he figured, which he deserved.

“Krypto,” he croaked out, “take me… take me home.”

A still image of your face imprinted in his mind, lighting up like an angel, as Krypto took hold of his cape in his mouth. Like a torpedo, Krypto faithfully galloped in the direction of wherever your scent lay, taking Clark back home—back to you.

[simp-council]

Post-amputation

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: Non con captivity, amputation, delusional behavior, medical trauma, emotional manipulation, yandere themes, mild gore, disassociation. I do not condone any harmful behavior shown here. This is purely fictional content made for storytelling and character analysis purposes based on the horror game wh4t 1 w0uldn’t d0 by s1ckh34d. All credit for the original character and concept goes to them.

☆He kisses your forehead gently when he changes the bandages. Your arms are gone, your legs too and since that then you haven’t spoken in days but he still talks like you do.

☆Bathes you, feed you the list could go on.

☆He places flowers on your windowsill or he would build a special garden box so you can watch things grow by the window.

☆“I made these for you. Thought you’d want to look pretty again.” He brings more gifts. Flowers from the field, a scrunchies in your favorite color or a headband for your hair. When you don’t respond, he places them on the windowsill with the others.

☆He never says sorry because in his mind, he didn’t take anything away. He just made sure you’d stay forever.

☆He carries you outside to feel the sun just for a few minutes. He’ll sit you in his lap on the porch, arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

☆He watches you blink to answer.

One blink = yes

Two = no

He treats it like a language only you and him understand.

“See? I knew you wanted jam today.”

☆He stores your extracted tooth in a tiny locket.

☆He would read out loud to you. Mostly old romance books or sometimes he ad-libs lines to make them about you.

☆He applies lotion on your skin slowly, like he’s painting something precious.

☆He keeps your shoes near the front door. He stares at them sometimes, then smiles like he’s remembering a joke only he understands.

☆He plays board games alone. Moves for both of you, keeps score and pretends you’re winning.

☆He keeps a tally of your progress. The day you stopped crying, you didn’t scream, the day your eyes lingered on him for longer than usual.

☆He would hold up two sweaters in front of you and watches your expression closely, letting you pick your outfits that sleeves hangs where arms should be.

☆He kisses your scars goodnight, gently kisses your shoulder like it's still attached to your arm. Mouth lingering just where the scar begins.

☆He puts blush on your cheeks when you’re pale.

☆The way he sees your missing limbs, he cups what’s left of it in both hands like he’s holding something delicate and divine.

☆He considered burying your amputated limbs beside the farmhouse.

☆He dreams of reattaching them when you're ready. The idea of fixing you someday. He fantasized sewing you back together like a doll. Even if it's impossible he holds onto the idea.

[simp-council]

✮ content. clark kent x reader. (david corenswet’s clark…). nsfw. oral. needy clark. an. for my favorite oomfie :3

he started slow. always did with you. his mouth soft where it touched your thigh, lips dragging open-mouthed kisses along the inside until you shivered. you were already wet, already aching, but he took his time. he always took his time.

his tongue dragged up the seam of your pussy, unhurried, steady, and he moaned like he could taste how badly you needed it. you gasped. your hips lifted. he pressed you down gently with one hand on your stomach, breath hot against your cunt.

“you’re shaking,” he murmured, voice slightly rough with need.

then he licked you again. deeper this time. tongue slipping through your folds, mouth hot and wet as it worked over your clit. his nose pressed against you, his lips sucked and kissed and spread your slick with messy strokes.

when you moaned his name, he groaned into you.

“fuck—” he said, hips pressing down into the mattress like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. like your voice alone did something to him. he was rutting against the sheets now, soft and desperate.

“clark,” you whined, legs falling open wider. “oh my god, don’t stop—”

he didn’t. he kept going, licking through your slick like he needed it to breathe. then he spat. spread it with his thumb, thick and slow, rubbing circles over your clit while he licked lower again, tongue fucking into you until your thighs trembled.

“taste so good,” he whispered, sounding dazed. “can’t get enough.”

you cried out when he sucked your clit into his mouth again, harder this time. his teeth grazing your skin as your back arched. your hand gripped his hair and pulled, and he moaned loud into your cunt, grinding harder into the bed.

his hand moved from your stomach to between your legs. two fingers slid in easily, your pussy clenching around them right away.

“fuck, baby—” he breathed, voice cracking. “you’re dripping.”

his fingers curled inside you. your walls fluttered around them. the wet sounds were loud, your slick spreading over his hand as he fucked you slow and deep, all while keeping his mouth on your clit.

your orgasm came fast. your whole body tensed, legs shaking around his shoulders. you moaned his name again, voice catching as your head fell back, hips rocking through it.

he didn’t stop. his fingers still moved inside you, dragging it out, his tongue keeping pressure over your clit until your voice went breathless and your thighs shook.

“too much,” you whispered, panting. “clark, i—”

but he was groaning again. and then you felt it. the way his hips jerked against the mattress, the soft gasp against your cunt.

he came in his pants.

you froze for a second. then looked down at him. the tension in his shoulders, the blush creeping up his cheeks, his breath ragged.

“did you just…” your voice trailed off.

he looked up, still between your legs, face wet and flushed, a little stunned. “i—yeah. sorry. i couldn’t… you sounded so good.”

your heart kicked hard in your chest. you tugged him up by the front of his shirt and kissed him, messy and breathless. you tasted yourself on his tongue. he moaned into your mouth.

his jeans were soaked. you could feel the twitch of his cock under the wet denim, still hard, still aching.

“you’re fucking perfect,” you smiled softly, lips brushing his.

“wanna do it again,” he mumbled. “wanna make you come all night.”

[simp-council]

Daniel x f!Reader |🔞 Extremely Dark Yandere Headcanons |

⚠️ Warnings: gore, non-consensual elements, psychological horror, and extreme sexual content. This material is intended for a mature, horror-literate audience only.

🔨 You escaped him. Once. Just once. You thought the fire, the blood, the sirens, the months in hiding—it would be enough. But he was never really gone. You left a piece of yourself behind in that basement: your fear, your sleep, your sanity. That was the breadcrumb he followed.

🔨 He watched you for months before acting. Let you feel safe. Watched you move into a new apartment, change your hair, get a job. He was so proud. You were thriving. You deserved to have it all—just so he could take it all away again.

🔨 When he takes you this time, it’s not chaos like the first time. No. It’s surgical. Clinical. You wake up in a sterile, windowless room with white walls, no door, and a thick mirror that isn’t a mirror at all. It’s his eyes.

🔨 He talks to you through speakers, his voice warped by distortion and rage-suppressing drugs. His affection is now laced with venom. “You made me like this. Do you see what you’ve done to us?”

🔨 There’s no more pretending to be gentle. No more pretending at all. He’s your god now, your captor, your judge, and he is not merciful. He’s not here to earn your love anymore— he’s here to own you.

🔨 He drugs you frequently, not just to keep you compliant, but to rewrite your sense of time. Weeks pass in blinks. Sometimes you wake up and your fingernails are gone, or your teeth feel… wrong. Too loose.

🔨 You can’t remember your own name some days. He never uses it. He calls you “Маленькая жена” or worse: “me”—as if you’re part of him now, an extension of his will.

🔨 His “love” is violence. He carves little symbols into your skin while humming the songs you used to sing in the shower. “You stopped singing,” he says as he digs into your thigh. “So I made you a new voice.”

🔨 One night, he leaves you in the room with a box. Inside is the corpse of someone you once dated—preserved. Dressed up like you. Glass eyes stitched into place. Their tongue sewn into a smile

🔨 He keeps you underground, where no sound escapes. No windows. Just flickering yellow lights, the hum of an old freezer, and the constant drip of water echoing through the concrete. (not in the game but I like the idea)

🔨 He makes you watch videos of yourself— ones he took while you slept. While you showered. While you screamed.

🔨 Sometimes he ties your limbs down until circulation cuts off. He wants you immobile. Cold. “Like a doll.” He likes it best when you go limp and unresponsive — he calls that “your best self.”

🔨 Knifeplay is his love language. He drags the tip down your skin as he whispers love poems. Sometimes he presses too deep, and licks the blood off your chest, murmuring “You taste like betrayal.”

🔨 He wants a child. But not with you. He wants to turn you into a child— mentally. Regression, isolation, reward systems. Eventually, he gets what he wants. A quiet, broken thing who clings to him when the lights go out.

🔨 His hands are rough, exploring bruised and bleeding skin with both desperation and dominance. He forces himself on you without mercy, his body pressing heavy as he claims every inch of you. The sounds of your protests blend with ragged breaths and wet, aching moans as he takes twisted pleasure in your pain and submission.

🔨 He leaves bite marks all over your body— deep, bleeding, permanent. He wants you to never heal, to carry reminders of him every time you look in the mirror. He leaves teeth imprints on your throat, claw marks down your back, and bruises on your inner thighs that last for weeks.

🔨 He prefers it when you’re barely conscious— drugged, exhausted, too numb to scream. He’ll pet your hair as you fade out, then use your limp body however he wants. He talks to you the whole time, cooing about how perfect and soft you are like he’s making love— but it’s just domination masked as affection. “You don’t even have to fight anymore. Just let me love you while you sleep…”

🔨 Daniel wipes the blood and tears from your face and calls it “aftercare.” He bandages your wounds, kisses your temples, and tells you he’s proud of how well you took him — all while you’re shaking, broken, and sore.“See? I’m taking care of you. No one else would. No one else deserves to.”

🔨 He degrades you with every thrust. Calls you filthy, ungrateful, pathetic — and then kisses your neck like he didn’t just spit in your mouth. He breaks you down until you’re too confused to know what’s real.

🔨 Daniel knows your body. Even if you scream at him to stop, he’ll make you cum through the pain, touching and thrusting and licking you until your body betrays you. He calls it “proof” that you want him— and punishes you when you cry after. “Your mouth lies. But your body? Your body knows who you belong to.”

[simp-council]

LOOK AT HER B☆TT!

STARRING: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb x reader

synopsis: you decide to be a bit of a tease to your boyfriend(s) and give them a good little peek. but you're freaks. of course it'll be more than just that. they'll always make sure you finish what you start. and if you can't, don't worry, they can take care of it for you!

warnings: porn no plot, backshots, inappropriate use of evol, super hard boners, masturbation, spanking, bathtub sex, public sex, cockwarming, dry humping, cunnilingus, panty fucking, choking, your men are just nasty freaks for you.

wc: 5.4k in total, roughly 1000 per li

an: happy belated birthday, @jadestone2!! here's one of the gifties i have for you <3. hope you all enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

XAVIER

There’s never a day where Xavier doesn’t believe the moments he wakes up from his naps aren’t blessings hidden as disruptions. 

Last week, he woke up to see you watering his plants looking like a cute bunny in one of his many hoodies. Two days ago he woke up to you halfway through placing a pillow beneath his head because he somehow landed up sleeping on the floor.

Today, he woke up to you cooking lunch for both of you. In nothing but one of his old sweaters.

It’s a particularly short sweater, even for him. The way it rides up your curves each time you reach for the cabinet hypnotises him. It’s like he’s in a trance, the way he hops off the couch —  bedhead and all — and stalks slowly behind you like a predator about to catch his prey.

Though, in this case, he is technically your prey. 

The outfit was a deliberate move from you. You had planned it the moment you realised he was asleep on the couch. You decided that instead of waking him like you usually would to teach him how to cook without burning the apartment down, you’d instead give him a surprise to wake up to. 

You blame ovulation, you just haven’t gotten to spend that much time with him since you’re both so so busy. Your fingers and vibrator definitely weren’t enough to substitute for the immense pleasure he gives you. Why not give him a little treat?

Xavier can feel himself throbbing in his pants by the time he reaches the kitchen. He doesn’t even have to glance down to know that his length is poking hard against his sweatpants forming a large tent. Judging from how the pulsation and heat down there is growing by the second, he’s definitely leaking precum from his slit.

His mouth waters at the sight of you simply humming to yourself while you chop away at the vegetables on the cutting board. Each and everything you do brings his cock to an almost painful throb.

The way your ass looks so soft and plush and barely hidden beneath his sweater— his sweater— boils deep in his core, so deep that all the blood rushing straight to his cock gets him lightheaded. 

His hands start grabbing the air in state of being half-sleepy half-horny for you. If you could just bend over just a little bit—

And you do. Fuck yes, you do.

You drop the your knife to the floor, quickly hopping on the spot to avoid the blade. In your eyes, you dodged a very sharp bullet. In Xavier’s, you just drove him deeper into his insatiable abyss of hunger for you.

The jump alone pushed the sweater up as far as your waist, revealing that delicious curve of your ass, your hip dips that he loves to lick and grip on, and your spine— fuck, he loves staring at your back.

“Oh my fuck,” You cuss under your breath and bend over to pick it up. The remaining blood in his brain is about to shoot out of his nose. He could cum on the spot. Being blessed with such a sight of your cunt openly greeting him makes his knees buckle. Drool is dripping from the corners of his mouth. Fuck.

Xavier has to fight the urge to just moan out loud from the sight alone. The way his cock keeps bouncing inside his sweats rubbing his tip against the fabric doesn’t make the situation any easier for him. He’s glued to the spot, hypnotised, enamoured, pussy drunk before he even gets a taste of you.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” He mutters under his breath. Not even a blink later Xavier finds himself on his knees right behind you— he teleported because he was mentally stuck to the ground. 

You obviously sense the change in the air, along with the new sense of warmth radiating right behind you.

“Xavier- oh.” You glance over your shoulder to find him nuzzling his head on your thighs, rambling incomprehensible words so fast you can barely catch on. A warm wet slither travels up your thighs and close to your core.

“Let me have a taste.” His whines. It would have been a command if it wasn’t for how high pitched his voice becomes each time he speaks. “Fuck, let me taste— please, let me taste."

Smiling to yourself, you sigh in relief that he finally woke up. “Of course, baby, take what you need.”

His mind snaps, shatters, splits into pieces—your affirmation is everything he needs to hear to plant his face between your cheeks and slither his tongue right into your cunt.

You both moan shamelessly from the contact, Xavier from tasting you and you from feeling you after so, so long. You hand immediately drops to his head to push him closer and closer, his hands fondling and squeezing your ass like a stress toy. It’s the only thing keeping him from stroking himself.

His hips jut up your leg in rhythm, bringing him to rut on you and spread his pre all over you through his soaked sweatpants.

“So good.” His muffled voice praises you. “You taste so good, fuck.” 

Your grip tightens on the soft tufts of his hair, burning hot into his scalp from his fingers reaching your bud of nerves. He circles, pinches, and rubs at your clit like he’s desperately trying to make you cum as quickly as possible.

“Xavier,” You whine, practically grinding on his face making his head bob in tandem with your needy ruts. “Need you inside.”

Literally anything you say can be a buzzword in his ears. Xavier shoots up to his feet, ignoring the dizziness that strikes his body in a flash to push his sweatpants down low enough for his cock to audibly slap his abdomen. 

His cock continuously bounces up and down, smacking his skin with his leaky tip to create a sticky string connecting his cock to his stomach. The lewd imagery is riveting, mind numbing, he can barely think straight. He doesn’t even notice you aligning his cock with your hand, stroking him while his brain goes dumb from desire.

“Snap out of it!” You hiss, practically losing balance from how much your pussy aches for him. “Xavier!”

A switch must have gone off to have him immediately slip inside until he bottomed out fully inside you. His arms wrap tight around your waist and he immediately ruts into you like he’s got a point to prove.

“‘M gonna make you feel real good, baby.” He groans, licking a wet stripe of spit up the length of your neck to your jaw. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

ZAYNE

Zayne can feel himself losing threads of his control. He can feel his cock beginning to strain against the confines of his slacks. 

All because you’re bending over to pick up a fork he dropped. 

It wasn’t on purpose, he swears. It was just that his hand slipped while he was talking to you. One long look at that beautiful face of yours, watching you laugh and his hand slips pushing the fork to the floor. He can’t help himself, he’s just so down bad when it comes to you.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to stand and reach to pick it up, despite him telling you it’s okay. What he really hadn’t seen coming was that you’d turn away from him and bend over, showing that you were barely wearing anything underneath your skirt.

And by barely, there was a very clear opening of the crotch area revealing your pussy to his eyes and his alone.

By the time you stand up straight, ice was creeping up his neck to cool his face down and reduce the blatant blush spreading across his face and ears. 

“You okay?” You ask as you place the fork back down by his plate. You fight the muscles on your face to keep yourself from grinning. Zayne only nods as if the ice has stiffened his neck.

You chuckle to yourself, he’s so cute. If it isn’t the sugar he relishes in consuming whenever he gets the chance, it’s how flustered he gets. Cheeks reddened, struggling to maintain eye contact… it’s all so cute until he starts to get back at you for putting him in that state.

You begin to turn away until his hand catches your wrist, grip cold and needy. Before you can even ask, you find yourself being tugged towards him, hearing the faint ruffle of his pants being unzipped and then the soft schlick of your cunt being stuffed by his cock.

“Not a sound.” His voice is cold as steel yet dripping with desire, holding you down tight by the waist to stop you from moving. You can just feel him twitching inside you. 

“I could’ve held back and waited until we reached the car but seeing you in that lace,” He adjusts, jutting his cock up deeper into you but not giving you the pleasure of fucking you good in the middle of the cafe. “Seeing that delicious pussy… you must be shameless.”

Feeling a slew of moans brimming at the back of your throat, you bite your lip hard enough to make it bleed just to hold yourself back. You wanted this the entire time but you didn’t expect it to happen this early. Not to mention literally sitting in a full cafe while cockwarming your lover.

If anything, the goal you had in mind was to get him riled up enough to humble you in his car. This, however, looks like it’ll be so much better.

“You’re getting so wet, my love.” Zayne whispers, feeling more at ease as his evol relaxes. His lips press hot kisses on the shell of your ear. His breath is hot on your skin and his once ice cold hands tighten their hold on your waist. “Is sitting on my cock in front of all these people turning you on?”

You won’t lie, it is turning on. You’re soaked through and through to the point where your arousal slick is dripping onto his pants. If it isn’t the way he’s teasing you in that hushed sexy voice of his, it’s his girthy length pulsating deep inside you.

Your walls involuntarily clench on him, making squelches loud enough for the couple in the booth behind you to hear. Zayne can feel his control slipping, feeling the plush of your ass so comfy on his lap, the way your pussy is just clamping tight on him— he just has to remind you to behave.

He raises your hips just a bit and slams you back down on his cock with a soft plap. You both have to swallow your noises of pleasure. Zayne can’t help himself but fondle your ass beneath your skirt, feeling that soft flesh that he loves so much.

“Zayne,” You whimper, feeling your core tighten in heat. “I need you.” There’s only so much discipline you have when it comes to cockwarming him— and being in a literal public space doesn’t make the matter any easier.

“Talk to me, darling.” Zayne murmurs, nudging your legs apart with his knee to grant himself access to your throbbing clit. Discreetly under the table, his fingers find your sensitive nub covered by sheer lace and gently rubs and teases you in cruel, rough circles.

“This is what you wanted, no?” He muses, now using two fingers to pinch and pull at your clit while his hips twitch into yours— a clear indicator of him being close. He would never admit it out loud, but the risk was turning him on too.

“After all that teasing, wearing those panties here for me to see, you didn’t think I’d give you just what you need?”

Before you can even muster a response, loud screams erupt around you followed by scrambles of people rushing to leave the cafe. You both snap out of your trance to see wanderers lurking outside the cafe and citizens rushing to escape.

Out of impulse, you move to stand up only to be held back down, deeper into Zayne’s length.

“Zayne, the—“

“Look, hunters have already been dispatched.”

You glance out the window to see a hoard of hunters already in battle against the wanderers, swiftly moving people out of the way. Mind still fuzzy from being stuffed, you ease back into his embrace.

“And since the cafe’s empty…” Zayne grins into your nape and presses a wet kiss on your skin. His hands roughly push your skirt high up your waist, relishing in the sight of your plump ass so close to him. 

He pumps his cock right into your cunt, shamelessly moaning into your ear as you whine from his ministrations. “Let’s take care of this needy pussy.”

RAFAYEL

He probably shouldn’t have asked you to join him in the bath.

Yes, you hadn’t seen him in a week, and yes the only time you could see him without disruption was coincidentally his bathing time. Buuuuuut… a little bath wouldn’t hurt, right?

WRONG! Rafayel can feel his cock rising beneath the water. He’s struggling to think. Look at you, reaching for the shampoo on the little side table next to the bath. Stretching so nice that he can watch droplets of water cascade down your spine and fall into the crack between your plump ass cheeks.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s seen you naked more than enough times to be well accustomed to seeing your posterior— he’s painted you like this more than fifty times. But this particular sight is something that not even paint can accurately capture.

He watches you spread your legs wider, exposing your core right to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck.” Rafayel curses under his breath. He wraps his hand wraps tight around his cock, slowly pumping his shaft beneath the water.

“What’s wrong?” You muse, wriggling your hips just enough to make your ass bounce and smack the water.

Just enough to tease him. Just enough to make him lose his patience, grab you by the hips and fuck you so good that half the water in the tub ends up splattered on the floor— along with a few other fluids.

You know just how much Rafayel loves your ass, plump and soft just for him to fondle and nibble on. You’d found paintings scattered around his studio and even more bound within his sketchbooks, all having a small note of his insatiable thirst for you.

Don’t get him started on the view he gets when he takes you from behind.

He’s shamelessly stroking his cock, feeling the heat of unbearable pleasure surge through his veins. He has a very strong feeling you know what you’re doing, rudely moving like that for him. Precum mixes with water and his breath goes heavy.

“Is it that hard to get shampoo?” He huffs in a huskier tone, one you easily recognise as him getting more aroused. “Can’t be that hard, cutie.”

“Can’t seem to reach it,” You deliberately whine, dramatically arching your back for the water to collide with your skin like a wave crashing with the shore. All that work and Rafayel just doesn’t seem to budge.

“Uh huh.” He’s in a daze. Eyes locked like glue on your ass, watching your sweet nectar start to drip from your core, almost as if your pussy could sense the rise of desire in his cock. You are his bride, after all. It’s only natural to share each other’s desires.

“Just— just keep trying.” His words slur as the sounds of his hand stroking his cock grow louder just enough for you to hear. “You’ll get it.”

The splashing and rhythmic pumps definitely catch your awareness, and that only irritates you more. Why isn’t he doing anything about it? You softly grunt and snatch the shampoo from the counter, ensuring you lean back directly above his crotch. 

“Got it!” You grin and glance over your shoulder. And my, my, my, is he a sight for sore eyes.

His cheeks are flushed redder than a tomato, his hand shamelessly jerks away at his length to pleasure himself while his eyes are locked on your ass.

“You were ignoring me on purpose!” You huff, hitting his face with water to catch his attention.

“Do you even know what you do to me when you act like this?” Rafayel releases his cock from his grip and holds your hips to align your pussy with his throbbing length. “I just had to wait for you to come back.”

You can feel your eyes twitching. “I wanted you to lean over me and fuck me senseless, Raf, why do you think I was taking so long?!” 

“Oh.” There he goes with that faux shock. “I thought you were just struggling. Wasn’t really surprised. But now that I know what you want…”

He swiftly pulls you onto him while raising his hips, filling you to the brim with his cock. He doesn’t waste any time to start snapping his hips to pound his cock as deep as it can possibly go— which isn’t that hard considering you’re soaked like a fucking sponge.

Your eyes roll as soon as he hits that delicious sensitive spot instantly, moans ripping from your throat to echo around his bathroom like a lewd symphony. His leaky cockhead continuously pokes that gummy spot as if it’s target practice. You can barely keep up with how hard he’s going, your balance keeps slipping from being half submerged with water despite the death grip you have on the edges of the tub.

“Rafa—“ Choke on your moans, practically hypnotised by the way the water moves with you, drenching you, him, and the floor completely. His thick length just stretches you out so so good you can barely think straight, your only ambition is to squeeze around him tight enough to memorise each vein— as if you haven’t already.

“Not— fuck— not gonna last long—“ Even better for you. You want to have him fill you up, that’s what you’ve been aching for the entire time.

“Don’t hold back,” You squeeze around his cock tighter forcing your walls to clench as hard as you can, stringing out a noise from his lips that sounds like a mix of a moan and a whimper. “Want you to cum deep inside.”

The water jumps out of the bathtub and up Rafayel’s thighs as your hips roll in tandem with his thrusts, landing a noisy slap of his sacks against your clit— only bringing you closer to unravel on his cock. 

The schlap schlap schlap of soaked skin colliding in an obscene tempo begins to create a symphony in his head that he forces himself to memorise. The pieces he could create from the sounds of your pleasure could make audiences break down into tears.

“Gonna fill you up good,” Rafayel muses right into your ear. “All that teasing… you deserve it, don’t you?”

You can barely speak from how hard you’re going, grinding your hips on his to chase your pleasure while bringing him to his own undoing. All you can do is nod, and that’s all the signal he needs to keep going.

And he won’t stop for a while.

SYLUS

You have no business bending down like that.

Especially not on his bed. In one of his many tailored shirts that barely cover your torso because it keeps slipping off your shoulder. Bending over his bed to reach for your book.

Why were you bending over in such a scandalous position? It’s simple, really. You threw your book off the bed in the midst of your cuddle/reading session because you read an unexpected plot twist. A very erotic plot twist.

Sylus had made a soft yet audible whine when you pried his hands off your waist but his little noises — which only you have the privilege of hearing — fell to silence when you crawled to the edge of the bed and leaned right over the edge, leaving the image of you straddling air for him to consume.

“Need help, sweetie?” Sylus muses as he watches your struggle, both amused and aroused. A very familiar hardening length is starting to push out of his robe’s parted front— and he conveniently decided not to wear anything apart from his robe tonight. 

“Nope.” You huff over your shoulder. The book is more than an arm’s length away— why did you throw it so aggressively? 

You’d been in that position for longer than you intended, fully absorbed on the goal of taking your book. What’s taking you so long was the fact that you are about to fall off the bed. Feeling gravity attempt to pull you to the floor (again), you swiftly wiggle your ass as you move your legs bit by bit to push you further into the bed.

All Sylus can see is the ricochet of your soft cheeks with each movement. It takes so much deep restraint to not crawl to you and bite your ass just for the fun of it. 

 But he’ll have to distract himself even if his eyes refuse to look away. “How’s the search going?”

“Terribly.” You huff— but it sounds more like a suppressed moan from stretching your body to abnormal lengths to reach for that damn book.

That just makes it worse for your poor kindred lover. His hard on reveals itself by pushing his robe out of the way— that’s just how strong his love and desire is for you when you unintentionally tempt him. Now imagine what happens when it’s deliberate. 

He doesn’t even try to touch himself, knowing the eventual slick noises will catch your attention. It’s becoming unbearable to watch you in the midst of your hunt, trying to keep his eyes on you when all he can see is your arched back accentuating the curve of your ass all while his length twitches and leaks in his peripheral. 

Each movement of your reaching forward or rebalancing yourself made your flesh jiggle. Every. Single. Movement. That plush, softness that he’d always grip on tight when you clench on him hard, or that he’d smack soft or hard when he aches to hear you moan so deep in his ear that it’s engraved into his every thought. 

When you move one more time, if you jiggle that ass one more time— and you eventually do— Sylus closes his eyes in blissful resignation. 

Fuck it.

Smack!

It’s been hours. Hours since he pounced on you.

His hand collides with your cheeks to watch that delicious, cock throbbing ricochet that makes him harder and harder than he’d like to admit.

You’re hours deep into him being deep inside you, still bent well over the edge of your bed with the only thing keeping you in place being his powerful grip on your hips.

“I feel like you did that on purpose.” Sylus purrs and pulls your hips flush against his to ensure you can feel the curve of his cock dive into your pussy with each powerful thrust. “You could’ve hopped off the bed— ffuck— and yet-“ smack! “You chose to be a tease instead.”

You can only respond with a giggle that sounded more like a moan. Blood is rushing to your head like a current, your hands grip the bedding to claw at every time he pounds your weeping pussy harder and harder just how you like it.

Was it intentional? Maybe.

In your defence, you did actually throw the book out of shock. You were about to simply hop off the bed to make it quick but you had stopped and came up with the idea to tease your lover. Just a little bit. You did neglect the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt that you wore and that the book made you wetter than you’d like to admit.

Another thing you underestimated was that Sylus is down horrendously bad for you. So down bad that seeing your pussy glisten in the dimmed lights while you’re bent over the edge of the bed would drive him mad. 

“Took— took you long enough!” You whined as a harder push of his hips almost threw your off the bed, bringing you closer to your edge (for the fifth time tonight). 

The position you are in is just too good. The bed’s already soaked through and through with cum from both of you that somehow managed to leak out of your hole while he’s been plowing you. Your skin is warm and sticky with sweat and slick adding extra deliciously maddening friction for every time your hips collide.

Sylus is grinding— no, rutting on your ass, moaning loud into your ear from how soft and cushy it feels, how your pussy literally swallows his cock and refuses to let him out. 

“Keep squeezing me like this and we’ll end up making a big mess, Kitten.” He seethes, bending over your body to lick the shell of your ear while his cock still ravages you, dragging through your gummy walls until its shape is ingrained in you.

“S-Sy!” You whine. You can feel yourself falling. At an instant, a gust of black and red mist swirls round your body and raises you both to keep you in place. 

“Relax, I got you.” That purr is more than enough to make you cum again. “I’m not done yet. You teased me with this pretty ass of yours.” Another smack! hits your skin— you’re sure it’ll leave a mark of his hand.

“I plan to make the most of it tonight.”

CALEB

He can literally smell your arousal in the air. 

It’s not even like you’re doing anything. He can just smell it. 

That sweet musk that he chases to inhale whenever he does your laundry. That delicious scent the snorts into his brain whenever his face is locked between your legs slurping up your slick to satiate his thirst that only you can provide. 

You aren’t doing anything. Just lying on the couch. Legs spread. Wearing as little as a crop top and one of his favourite panties. One that he’s definitely used for other purposes. 

Lying on the couch with a pillow underneath your abdomen to keep you comfy while you scroll away on your phone. Lying on the couch with your ass up in the air, panties bunching in to accentuate your curvaceous form.

You aren’t doing anything. And that’s the problem.

Your legs hang casually over his lap, directly above his crotch. You can literally feel his boner growing beneath you but you’re playing it off, pretending you don’t even notice. Pretending you don’t even notice the strain in his voice, the need brewing in his core like a pot boiling over onto the stove.

“D-Do you mind, uh—“ Caleb stops himself before a moan slips out from his lips. His knuckles are about to turn white from how hard he’s gripping the couch to stay in place. Anything to stop his hips from acting out of their own accord.

“Huh?” You stretch your legs right over his bulge, making sure you rub just enough to build up friction. You’re such a tease.

Caleb’s rendered speechless. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavy through his nostrils to gather some level of control. Jokes on him, that flew out the window the moment he saw your ass.

He can’t seem to stop staring at it. Seeing how you naturally get wet just from being within his proximity, how your slick coats your underwear and exaggerates the puff of your pussy lips especially when you’re horny, how he can literally smell it—

“Caleb?” 

His throat goes dry hearing his name leave your lips. Not even, he’s salivating. Literally dribbling from the mouth like he saw a meal after weeks of not eating. He might as well assume that is the case.

“Yeah?” He chokes out while forcing himself to pull his gaze away from your ass. What was he trying to ask earlier? “Oh— you mind moving your legs a bit? I need to stretch.”

“Stretch?” You innocently ask — but that grinch-like grin slapped on your face only widens. “You just sat down.”

That is just all the confirmation he needs to know you’re doing this intentionally. He sighs and grips your thigh. Tight.

“I’m going to turn over and eat you out through your panties if you don’t let me stand up.” 

You didn’t expect him to fold that quickly. Usually, when either of you play this teasing game, it can take up to hours for either of you to fold— be it literally grinding on each other or using subtle innuendoes. This time, he looks extra needy for you.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, wondering if he’s joking. He’s not. His eyes are practically turning another colour from all that arousal brimming deep within him, not to mention the his hard length raging in his pants.

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, gracing him with a Cheshire grin. Caleb doesn’t even bother speaking. He plants his face right onto your clothed cunt while the rest of his body follows suit, laying comfortably in a makeshift sniper position to eat your pussy until you soak the couch.

“Fuck yeah.” His breath is hot on your skin, prickling goosebumps all over your body. 

He can hear the squelching gush of your arousal spill out of your pussy like a bursting faucet. His tongue slurps up a taste of your desire through your panties, suckling as much of your taste through the fabric as he can.

He might ruin this pair of panties but he’s more than happy to take you out to buy replacements— just to ruin them later. 

Your taste is divine, heavenly. He could worship you every damn day if you ask him to. He’d do anything to drown in your taste, your scent, in you. It all just feels too good not to rut his cock on the bed like a dog in heat.

“Oh, fuck, Caleb,” You sigh into the cushion trapped between your arms, bucking your hips back for him to ravage you completely. No matter how many times either of you try to tease each other, nothing beats the satisfaction that comes from breaking.

The way his clothed cock just perfectly fit in the junction between the cushion and couch is mouth watering. Eating you out while the stimulation going off in his cock like alarms is more than enough to make him cum, but he’d never waste his seed on something that isn’t you.

Caleb reluctantly pulls his face away from your core and strokes himself while he aligns his cockhead with your sobbing cunt. “I think I’m gonna ruin these panties, baby.”

“No, they’re my favourite!” You whine at the feeling of his cock rubbing up and down your clothed cunt, the stimulation from how wet you are makes your back arch like a cat. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t worry,” You can practically hear the smile spread on his face as he leans over you to press his cockhead into your cunt, pushing his panty-covered tip inside. “I’ll just fuck your panties a little bit. Then I’ll give you just what you need.”

The mere heat of his tip throbbing inside you drives you into a lust-dazed frenzy. You hump your hips in tandem with his short, torturous thrust, relishing in his swallowed moans from how your soaked panties rub on him just right. 

“So tight,” He whines into your ear, arm slithering under your head to put you in a gentle headlock, just the way you like it. “Pussy’s so tight— fuck—“

Caleb’s arm slides between you to tug your panties to the side then slides his cock right inside, slow and deep. The tight fill just burns so good that you both make noises loud enough for anyone outside the house to hear. 

“This is so mmmuch better,” You smile into his arm. 

“Yeah?” The muscles of his biceps and triceps bulge as he tightens his headlock on you. You choke on your breath just as his cock starts to pound into your cunt, wet plaps from his hip smacking your ass sounding in the living room. “Good. We’re gonna stay like this. Nice ’n snug. Til neither of us can think."

a/n: this was so fun to write, LET ME BE FREAKY!

[simp-council]

all these kpop groups coming to my state, I love going broke 💖🥲

[simp-council]

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗜𝗻 𝗣𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝟮.𝟬 || 𝗕𝗼𝗯𝗯𝘆 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹 ||

A/n: First Bobby fic 🫢

Erik was already used to being teased for having a girlfriend who dressed like a cupcake and smelled like strawberry lip gloss. He liked it, actually. The contrast between his black hoodie-wearing, chain-smoking self and her pastel, glitter-loving world was kind of the whole appeal.

What he wasn’t prepared for was that she’d come with baggage. Tiny, adorable, painfully shy baggage.

“Be nice,” his girlfriend warned, looping her arm through his as they stood on his porch. “She’s like a little sister to me, and she’s nervous.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “You say that every time you introduce me to someone new. I’m always nice.”

“You threatened to bite my cousin.”

“She started it.”

Before she could scold him further, the door opened and Bobby leaned out. “Hey, you guys coming in or—” His voice caught. “Uh.”

That’s when she appeared behind Erik’s girlfriend. You.

You stepped into view like something out of a vintage dollhouse—dressed in a soft pink sundress with a ribbon in your hair, white ruffled socks peeking out of ballet flats, and a matching gloss on your lips that caught the afternoon light. You were the kind of pretty that made Bobby feel like he was standing under a heat lamp.

“…Hi,” you said softly, half-hiding behind the older girl you adored like a big sister.

Erik’s girlfriend beamed. “This is my little shadow—Y/N. Isn’t she the cutest?”

You blushed furiously at that. “I-I’m not little—”

“She’s my mentee, technically. It’s a long story involving a fashion class and a mall incident, but anyway—Y/N, this is Erik’s little brother, Bobby.”

Little brother? Bobby wanted to protest. Why did it sound like he was a baby?

But you turned to him with wide, doe eyes and gave a shy wave. “Hi, Bobby.”

He coughed into his sleeve. “Hey. Uh. Nice dress.”

Nice dress?! What the hell was that?!

You giggled behind your hand. “Thanks. I made it.”

“Oh, shit,” Erik muttered under his breath, elbowing Bobby as he walked past. “That’s it. He’s dead. Love at first blush.”

Bobby turned red enough to match the punch Erik’s girlfriend brought.

“Shut up,” he hissed.

Erik just smirked, too pleased with himself.

Inside, things didn’t get better for Bobby’s self-control.

You were polite. You said please and thank you. You complimented Erik’s mom’s living room curtains like you were meeting the Queen. And when you spoke to Bobby, it was always with this soft smile and fluttery lashes like you didn’t even know how adorable you were.

Bobby, for the record, was losing his mind.

“She’s like if someone turned a bakery into a person,” he whispered to Erik while you were busy helping set out snacks.

“Dude,” Erik laughed. “You’ve been staring at her like she’s a puppy and you’re five seconds from asking if you can pet her.”

“Can I?”

“No.”

Erik’s girlfriend swooped in then, her pink tulle skirt swishing as she pulled you toward the couch. “Okay, movie time! Bobby, you’re sitting next to Y/N so she doesn’t get scared.”

You gasped. “I don’t get scared!”

“You cried during Coraline.”

“It was a lot of buttons!”

Bobby swallowed his nerves as he sat beside you, his thigh just barely brushing yours. You smelled like something sweet—vanilla and cherry blossoms.

You tucked your skirt politely around your knees and peeked at him. “I like your hoodie.”

He blinked. “You do?”

You nodded. “It looks soft.”

“Uh…” He immediately pulled it off and offered it. “You can borrow it.”

Your cheeks pinked up like cotton candy. “Really? But…won’t you get cold?”

“I’ll survive.”

Across the room, Erik coughed loudly into his fist. “Simp.”

Bobby threw a popcorn kernel at his head completely missing you burying your face into the hoodie, the scent of his cologne hitting you .

Later that day when everyone moved outside, Erik caught him staring again while you played with the dog, giggling as you tried to keep your lace-trimmed socks clean from pawprints.

“She’s not even your type,” Erik whispered like the menace he was.

Bobby shot him a look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You like girls who chew gum and wear leather.”

“So what?”

“So this one wears glitter and asks people how their feelings are. She’s gonna ruin you.”

Bobby watched you laugh and fall backward into the grass, sunshine caught in your hair.

“Maybe I want to be ruined.”

Erik groaned. “God, you’re already in love.”

“Shut up.”

But he didn’t.

And Bobby didn’t stop staring.

You noticed eventually.

You always did.

[simp-council]

Need head from Ian Mckinley asap

A/n: I can assist 🫡.

The air smelled like sugar, grease, and summer heat—the unmistakable scent of a dying graduation trip. Neon lights buzzed overhead, and somewhere in the distance, the rollercoaster roared as another cart was sent screaming down the tracks.

Ian had been leaning against the wall of the photo booth, looking half-annoyed and half-bored, arms crossed over his chest. His black nails tapped rhythmically against his arm as he waited.

But then you stepped in.

“Fuck the rollercoaster,” you’d said with a grin, grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and dragging him into the booth instead.

You looked picture-perfect—sugar pink tennis skirt, matching crop top, lip gloss glistening. A preppy daydream with mischief in her eyes. Ian didn’t get a second to respond before you dropped to your knees between his legs, your fingers already tugging at the waistband of his jeans with practiced ease.

“Christ, here?” he asked, voice low and already a little hoarse. But he wasn’t stopping you.

Your nails scratched lightly over his stomach as you pulled his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock—already thickening under your touch. You glanced up at him with a teasing smile, tongue tracing your lower lip before you leaned in, dragging the flat of it slowly along his length.

Ian’s head thudded back against the photo booth wall.

“Fuck, princess…” he hissed.

You wrapped one hand around the base, slowly stroking as your lips closed over the head, warm and wet and perfect. Ian’s hands clenched against the seat—he wanted to grab your hair, guide you, wreck you—but he let you take the lead for now. Because watching you like this? On your knees in that pretty pink skirt, messy lip gloss smearing as your spit coated his cock? It was obscene.

And then—flash.

The camera went off.

Ian startled slightly, his eyes darting toward the blinking light above the screen.

Another flash.

“Are you serious right now?” he groaned, even as his thighs twitched. But his cock pulsed in your mouth, and when you looked up at him again—eyes glassy, cheeks flushed—he knew he wasn’t stopping this for anything.

Sloppy sounds filled the booth as you took him deeper, throat stretching, spit dribbling from the corner of your mouth as your fingers tightened on his thigh. You moaned around him, and that vibration nearly broke him.

The camera kept going off. Ian barely noticed now. His jaw clenched, hips jerking slightly as your mouth worked him with hungry precision—pushing down, pulling back, swirling your tongue just right every time you hit the tip.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he groaned, his voice rough with restraint. “Shit—gonna come, baby—”

You pulled back just enough to suck on the head, licking him like a lollipop as he spilled across your tongue, breath hitching in his throat. His hand finally gripped your hair, not to force—just to feel.

You swallowed with a satisfied hum, licking the corner of your mouth as you looked up at him, smug and gorgeous.

Another flash.

The last one.

You stood up, cheeks still pink, and smoothed your skirt like nothing happened—like you hadn’t just sucked the soul out of him while a camera made a scrapbook of it. You popped the booth open, grabbed the still-warm strip of photo prints, and waved them in front of his dazed face.

“Souvenir,” you giggled.

Ian blinked, eyes darting to the tiny images—each frame perfectly, horrifically timed.

You were grinning wide in one. On your knees in another. One had your lips wrapped right around him, and the last one was his face mid-orgasm—mouth open, hair mussed, completely undone.

He groaned.

“You are so fucking lucky I love you.”

You just winked, tucking the strip into your bra.

“Happy graduation, babe.”

[simp-council]

request- Erik with female reader

Erik and R in a committed relationship and her finding out she’s pregnant? How he likes the bump?

Erik with Pregnant Partner Hcs

I won't write a full oneshot for this purely because I lowkey hate writing pregnancy as a person that never WANTS to be pregnant, but I am a people pleaser. So I will give you something🫶🏻

Masterlist

•He made you take at least five more pregnancy tests after the first one, just because he wanted to be sure. And yk damn well he sat in that bathroom with you waiting for the result on each one.

•When he knew for sure, he immediately asked you what you wanted to do. Made it crystal clear that the choice was yours, he wouldn't push you one way or the other. After all, you'd be the one that has to carry a human in your body for 9-10 months.

•He wasn't happy at first, not because he didnt want a baby with you, but because he was terrified of being a bad dad. His new found daddy issues made him beyond paranoid about parenting.

•He goes to every single appointment, doesn't matter if he has to skip work or wake up at an ungodly early hour, he'll make sure hes there by your side.

•He makes everything single pregnancy craving you even mention having. He'll send Bobby and Julia to the store, and make sure you have your cravings within an hour.

•When you started to show, he was obsessed. Anytime you laid in bed together, he was laying a hand on your bump or talking to it.

•He was already buying baby clothes and toys within the first 3 months. You told him to wait but he just couldn't, that baby already had a closet full of clothes and more toys than it would know what to do with.

•The first time he felt the baby kick, he lost his mind. He heard you talking about feeling them kick all night long, but every time he tried to feel it, they would stop. And maybe he was a little heart broken about it.

•Some nights, while you tried to sleep, he'd quietly talk to your bump because he knew it calmed the baby down, stopped their kicking so you could sleep.

•He was banned from coming up with baby names. Every name he came up with sounded like it belonged in a game of DND, not like a name for a human being.

•He wouldn't leave your side at the baby shower, constantly asking if you needed anything, if your feet hurt or if it was too hot. And lord help anyone who tried to touch your bump without asking, Even poor Bobby damn near got his head knocked off his shoulders.

•He was a mess trying to put the crib together. Being the stubborn man he is, he refused to read the instructions. Julia ended up having to help, aka, she put the whole thing together and Erik took the credit.

[simp-council]

Also (I requested #10 with Caleb) I 4g9t to say fem reader plsss

Thanks for the request, anon! I really hope you like subby caleb because this got away from me and I went fully into “good boy” territory SORRY (I am 100% okay with redoing this if you don’t vibe with it, just lmk)

Also, this one is a bit longer than a drabble. Consider it a bday special lol

Reminder: requests are closed!

Command me

Caleb x female reader

Prompt: finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

Content: submissive caleb & dominant reader, a few uses of “good boy”, lots of teasing, JOI with a fleshlight, edging, a very small moment of objectification (aimed at caleb)

“This...this isn’t fair,” Caleb hiccups through needy whines and endless moans spilling past parted lips. “You weren’t supposed to find it.” He says that as if it’ll make you stop this sweet torture. You have no intention of stopping, though.

His cheeks are a bright shade of pink, his chest flushed and beading with sweat where his shirt is pulled up above his pecs. Sprawled across the bed, his twitching thighs are spread just enough to frame the toy you’re holding.

“No?” Your voice sounds saccharine-sweet, but your eyes are full of mischief. “Then you shouldn’t have hidden it somewhere so obvious. Top drawer, Caleb? Really?”

He huffs, breath shaky from how you’ve been teasing him nonstop since you found the toy. You let your fingers drag along the clear silicone fleshlight, slow and deliberate as you stroke it up and down his throbbing cock.

“I was curious,” you purr. “I had no idea you got off with this when I’m not around.”

Caleb squirms. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again when he finally has the strength to speak. “It’s not like that, pips. I only—fuck—used it before we–”

“Show me,” you cut him off with a soft command.

He blinks up at you, dazed and shuddering when you abruptly pull your hand away from the toy. “Wh–what?” he sputters.

“Show me how you fuck it.” You settle back against the headboard of the bed, giving his cock a pointed look to let him know you’re serious. “Come on, baby. I wanna see exactly what you do when I’m not here.”

Caleb swallows hard, his fingers already instinctively curling around the base. “You’re bein’ so mean today,” he murmurs, but there’s no real protest in his voice. You can tell he’s enjoying this. That telltale pitch of his voice means he’s slipping, already giving into his desire.

“Yeah? Well you must like it because you're hard as a rock,” you reply with a smirk. “Go on, Caleb. Start stroking it. Slowly.”

He whines at your instructions but obediently pulls the toy off his length before sinking its slick opening back down the flushed head of his cock. His breath punches out in a gasp as he slides in all the way, the suction already so wet and obscene.

You lean back, watching him greedily. “Hm, that’s a good boy,” you coo with a too-large grin. And, oh, he really likes the sound of that. A loud, uncontrollable moan escapes him, and it makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Fuck into it,” you say, voice getting lower with desire at the sight of your own personal porn star. “I want to see your hips move.”

Caleb shudders, rolling his hips upward with a groan, the toy squelching around him. His eyes flutter closed, brows drawn tight as he fucks it faster like he’s desperately chasing his release far too soon.

“Nuh-uh.” You reach forward and tap his cheek. “Eyes on me.”

He whimpers but obeys, blinking up at you, glassy-eyed and panting.

“That’s better.” You chuckle, not yet ready to go easy on him. “Now slow down again. I want you right on the edge.”

He tries, biting his lip hard enough to leave a slightly bloody dent, muscles quivering as he slows his thrusts.

You can tell how hard it is for him. His whole body aches for friction—for your hand, your mouth, your pussy if he would be lucky enough. But you don’t give him any of it. Just your voice and strict commands.

“You like this, don’t you?” you whisper. “You like when I tell you exactly how to jerk off?”

He nods frantically, chest heaving. “Fuck, y–yes, I do. But please, touch me, just a little. Need your warmth. You’re so soft,” his garbled string of pleas is incoherent, but you hear the next part clearly: “This…this isn’t the same.”

“Nope,” you reply, a denial that’s sickeningly sweet and makes him deflate a little. “You don’t get my warmth right now. You’ve got your toy, remember? Isn’t that enough?”

He lets out the most pathetic sound, hips stuttering as he fucks the fleshlight harder again in an attempt to end your teasing sooner.

“I–I’m gonna come,” he warns with a strangled cry. Even though he’s so far gone in the throes of his pleasure, your sweet Caleb still has enough awareness to ask permission before spilling his load inside the toy. “Please, please let me–”

You lean in close, lips at his ear and fingers tickling his taut chest. “No,” you scold, “hold it right there. Don’t you dare come until I say you can.”

He chokes on a moan, shaking beneath you and sucking in deep breaths as he tries to delay his orgasm. You watch with near-sadistic glee as the muscles in his thighs tense and then relax with the effort it takes him to hold back.

“That’s it,” you murmur. “You look so good like this—fucking yourself while I watch. Bet you wish it was my pussy, though. Don’t you?”

He nods helplessly, cock twitching inside the clear toy with each labored breath he takes. You drag your nails down his stomach, and the dull scratch makes him leak even more precum inside the silicone casing.

He’s still right at the edge, hanging on by a thread, but you’re not yet done playing with your favorite fuck toy.

“Go slow again,” you demand with a smile. “Just the tip now.”

He whimpers, sliding out until just the swollen head remains inside. And then he starts shallowly fucking the entrance with trembling restraint.

“God, you’re such a mess,” you murmur, eyes locked on the beautifully flushed red tip of his cock. “Do you even know how to make yourself feel good without me telling you what to do?”

He shakes his head quickly, voice wrecked. “No. I—please, I need to come. I can’t—I can’t hold it any longer.”

“You still need to earn it.” You lean back again, crossing your arms as you watch him. “Show me how badly you want it. Stroke all the way down. Stop. Now just the head.” He follows all your instructions to a tee, body shuddering as he struggles to hold his orgasm at bay. “Good, now again.”

You talk him through it the whole time, forcing him to keep speeding up then slowing down over and over again. Caleb obeys every command with a sob—fucking the toy deep, then pausing, shuddering, and repeating it again with tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Eventually, you can see how close he really is: one more stroke and he’ll be gone. You know his body just as well as he does, so it’s clear he won’t be able to hold on much longer.

You wait one more beat, watching him tremble and beg through gritted teeth. And finally, you nod with a giddy chuckle. “Alright, alright. You can come for me now, sweetheart. Go on…that’s it.”

He lets out a strangled cry, hips snapping up hard as he plunges into the toy and spills inside it. You watch him unravel, utterly ruined, mouth open and cheeks flushed all the way to his ears.

He looks so damn cute. So needy and all yours. And his broken whine makes your thighs press together in search of some friction of your own.

When he finally collapses, panting and spent, you lean down to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You were such a good boy for me,” you praise with a gentle smile.

He seems to melt under your long-awaited touch, and you make a mental note to grab some water for him after he’s caught his breath—and then clean him up and smother him with cuddles.

His lips chase yours, searching for a reassuring kiss that you can’t deny him any longer. You giggle when he keeps trying to steal another peck from you, his warm breath tickling your face. 

“Hm,” you murmur against his lips, “since you followed instructions so well…” Your voice drops to a whisper. “I’ll let you come inside me next time.”

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divider by cursed-carmine

[simp-council]

NSFW Alphabet // Bobby Campbell.

pairing — bobby campbell x fem! reader

warnings — 18+, p in v, mentions of hand jobs, mentions of blow jobs, face sitting, begging, using ropes, orgasm control, praise kink, teasing, mentions of semen, dom/sub dynamics, sub! bobby, mentions of masturbation

a/n — i know yall were waiting for this one, ya nasties. me too.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

— The most cuddly thing you’ve ever experienced. He doesn’t let go for a solid 15 minutes after, it’s full-body clinging, face pressed against your chest, arms around your waist like a lifeline.

— Whispers little “thank you”s into your skin. “That was so good… you’re so good to me…” He’s dazed, floaty, and completely pliant.

— He lives for being stroked afterward. Hair, back, thigh, he’ll nuzzle into your palm like a sleepy puppy.

— Also? He’s obsessed with praising you. “You took such good care of me,” he mumbles, still red in the face, “I don’t deserve you.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

— On himself? His arms but only because you like them. He flexes when you’re watching, loves the way your fingers trace his biceps and make him blush.

— On you? Your thighs. Whether they're thick or lean, soft or strong, he’s just obsessed. Loves resting his head there, being pinned between them, whining into them. He calls them “his favorite pillows,” and honestly? He’s not joking. He’d fall asleep in your lap any day.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

— So messy. The kind of boy who apologizes while whining through an orgasm—“Sorry, I can’t—can’t hold it…”

— He’s sensitive. Like, twitching from overstimulation after one round, but ready to go again if you even look at him the right way.

— Loves it when you control when and how he gets to finish. Whether you’re edging him or coaxing him through it—he’s your good boy, just trying to please.

— You could absolutely get him off just from praise and some slow strokes. He’s that desperate for you.

— One thing he loooves is when you ride him raw but you make it clear he can’t finish inside and no matter how close he is, you just keep going without a care. He’s in tears, gripping the nearest solid surface while trying to hold his orgasm back.

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

— He’s fantasized about you tying him up. Not even in a scary way, just soft ropes, wrists above his head, thighs spread while he looks at you like you’re divine.

— Has definitely stolen one of your panties and gotten off to your scent. He hid it under his pillow for a week.

— He gets off to the idea of you scolding him. Not cruelly, just dominant, teasing, telling him what a needy, whiny mess he is for you. It wrecks him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

— A virgin before he met you.

— What he lacks in technical skill, he makes up for in enthusiasm and responsiveness. He listens to your body. You teach him, and he learns fast.

— He’s the kind of boy who moans just from pleasing you. Watching your face twist in pleasure? He gets addicted to it.

— Within a few months, he’s a certified whimpering mess who knows exactly how to beg just right.

F = Favorite position

— Missionary, but with you on top. Watching you ride him while he pants and grabs at your thighs like he’s trying not to pass out? His idea of heaven.

— Also loves when you sit on his face. He’ll whine when you pull away, hands clutching at your hips, eyes begging for more.

— He’ll let you fold him up, pin his wrists, anything, he just wants to feel yours.

—Loves positions where you can pin him down and make him watch you take what you want from him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

— Normally a little goofball, but in bed? It’s like his brain switches to soft, overwhelmed sub-mode.

— He’ll whimper and whine, blush and babble. sometimes he says the dumbest, sweetest things. “You're so hot—like, scary hot. Like villainess-in-an-anime hot.”

— Occasionally a little clumsy (bumping heads, fumbling with clothes), and he apologizes profusely, face flaming red. You just laugh and kiss it better.

— Still giggles if something silly happens. He’s serious when it counts but always with that golden retriever warmth behind it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they?)

— Natural blonde, slightly darker down south—still golden though, like spun honey.

— Keeps himself surprisingly well-groomed. Nothing fancy, just neatly trimmed, clean, and soft to the touch

— Once let you shave him while he laid back in the tub, eyes closed, trusting you completely. He moaned when you stroked lotion in after.

— The kind of guy who uses whatever shampoo you use just to smell like you later.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

— Insanely romantic. Makes eye contact that burns. Whispers, “You’re so beautiful,” like he’s seeing you for the first time every time.

— Kisses every inch of you before anything even begins. He wants you to feel adored, worshipped, completely cherished.

— He’s not just into the sex, he’s into making love. Wants you to know how much he needs you.

— Will cry if it gets intense enough. Real tears. He’ll hide his face in your neck and sob your name, overwhelmed with how good it feels and how deeply he loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— He tries not to. He prefers saving it for when you’re the one touching him, your hands, your voice, your control.

— When he does do it, it’s always thinking about you. Whining into a pillow, hips bucking up into his hand, your name muffled between panting breaths.

— Has definitely moaned your name out loud. Once. Loud enough for Erik to knock on the door. He didn’t make eye contact for days.

— Likes to hold something of yours while he does it—your shirt, your panties, even your lip balm. It’s pathetic and adorable.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

— Praise kink is at the top. Tell him he’s your good boy, your pretty boy, and he’ll melt literally. Might finish just from that.

— Power play. He lives for the switch—being manhandled, bossed around, pinned. He might look like he’s in charge, but the moment you pull his hair and growl, “Be good for me,” he’s gone.

— Overstimulation. He’s so sensitive, you can tease and edge him until he’s crying and he loves it.

— Hair pulling. Pull his blonde strands and he’ll whimper with glossy eyes, clinging to you harder.

— Begging. He’ll beg with shaking thighs and flushed cheeks, desperate for your touch. It’s his favorite game—“How long can I take it?” The answer is always not long enough.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

— His bed is his sacred temple of worship—soft sheets, dim lights, the scent of your perfume clinging to the pillow. He loves the intimacy of it, being tangled with you in a place that feels like home.

— The shower comes in at a close second. All that steam, water running down his flushed chest, your hands sliding over him? He’s already hard just thinking about it.

— But the naughtiest one? The backseat of his car. He gets flustered just reminiscing about that time you climbed into his lap and rode him until the windows fogged.

— He’s also kinda into semi-public stuff, not where anyone would see, but somewhere risky enough to make him squirm and ask, “Wait—here?”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

— Your voice. A soft command, a teasing whisper, a moan anddd he’s gone. You could get him hard just by saying, “Good boy.”

— Seeing you confident. Dressed up, straddling his lap, looking at him like you own him? He’ll melt. Every single time.

— Hands. Yours on his jaw, in his hair, pinning his wrists. He’s absolutely feral for it.

— Getting praised while he’s being used, he thrives off that emotional cocktail of submission and affection. It gets him trembling.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

— Anything degrading or cruel. You could call him a slut in a sweet, brat-taming kind of way, and he’ll whimper but if it’s genuinely mean? Instant mood-killer because it would kind of hurt him.

— Humiliation that feels like rejection. He needs to feel wanted, even when he's being teased or edged or absolutely ruined.

— Not into sharing. All loyal, all yours, and very possessive in his own soft way.

— No pain play that draws blood or leaves serious marks. He’s down for hickeys and love bites, but nothing harsher.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

— Loves giving. Like, adores it. Will literally drop to his knees with wide puppy eyes and whine, “Please?”

— He’s so eager when he’s between your legs—messy, moaning into it, gripping your thighs like he’ll fall apart if you pull away.

— Lowkey whimpers when he’s receiving. Very reactive. You wrap your lips around him, and he’s panting and gasping, trying not to buck.

— The eye contact kills him. If you look up while sucking him off? He’ll lose all brain cells instantly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

— Slow and sensual is his default. He likes to savor it. But if you take the lead and pick up the pace? Rough, dominant, riding him until he’s breathless and begging? Oh, he lives for that.

— He never initiates the rough stuff himself, but the moment you take charge and use him a little? He’s gone. Whining and squirming, all red in the face, completely wrecked.

— He doesn’t have the control to stay rough so he just melts into your rhythm, no matter what speed it is.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

— Nervous at first but once you showed him how hot a desperate, hungry moment could be? He was hooked.

— Now he gets needy in the car, the laundry room, even halfway through a study session. “Just real quick? Please?”

— He’s still a little flustered about getting caught but that’s half the fun, right? Especially when he can’t stop moaning.

— Post-quickie, he clings. Even if it was rushed, he wants a soft kiss, a hand on his back, something to remind him it wasn’t just physical.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

— Eager, curious, and completely willing to try anything once especially if it’s your idea.

— As long as he trusts you? He’s putty. Tie him up? Okay. Spank him a little? Nervous giggle, then yes. Tell him to be quiet while you tease him in a semi-public place? He’ll try, but fail.

— His biggest thrill is doing something new that makes you smirk and go, “You liked that, didn’t you?”

— The more praise he gets for being brave, the more he’ll let you push his boundaries.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

— He’s quick to blow, especially when you tease him or talk dirty but give him a breather and he’s good to go again.

— After the first round he’s even more sensitive. You ride him again and he’s shaking, begging, barely holding on.

— Usually good for 2–3 rounds, depending on how much aftercare he gets in between. And if you overstimulate him during the second? You can definitely get a third while he’s whining your name.

— Doesn’t last super long but you make it so worth it, and he lives for making it up to you in every other way.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

— Before you? Maybe a fleshlight and the occasional curiosity scroll through online shops.

— After you? Oohhh boy. You’ve got him squirming under a vibrator, moaning while you milk him with a stroker, panting when you deny him with a cock ring.

— He doesn’t use them on his own often, he waits for you to bring them out and tell him, “Be still.”

— Will blush so hard when you call it his “training.” But he secretly loves it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

— He thinks he’s teasing you when he tries to act cocky, flexing shirtless, leaning in close, whispering “you like that?”with his dumb sweet smirk.

— The reality? You’re the true menace.

— You teasing him? That’s his kryptonite. Soft grinding, whispering in his ear that he’s doing such a good job, dragging your fingers just above where he wants them… He shakes.

— If he ever gets bold enough to tease—grabbing your thighs during a kiss, maybe mouthing at your neck—he breaks the second you push him down and say, “My turn.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

— He’s so vocal.

— Whines. Moans. Choked-off gasps when you thrust deep or tug his hair.

— Soft little “please?” sounds when he wants more—please touch me, please keep going, please don’t stop.

— He’s especially loud when you overstimulate him. Like, squeaky and incoherent, clutching the sheets while you work him through a second or third orgasm.

— If you're riding him and lean in close? He whimpers directly into your ear. It's a full-body sound.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

— He’s tried to keep a sex journal, like a cute little notebook where he writes down things you did that made him fall apart, or ideas he wants to try.

— He’s too shy to show it to you, but you found it once, and the pages were filled with scribbles like:

“she tied my wrists today—thought I’d explode.”

“she told me I was good. almost cried.”

“idea: try collar?? what if she calls me pet?”

— He’s secretly a huge romantic, even when he’s being absolutely wrecked.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

— Built like a Greek god who drinks chocolate milk.

— Broad chest, soft golden happy trail, strong arms but a shy posture when undressing. He glances at you like, "Is this okay?"

— He’s big. You already knew that from the way he bulges in his boxers when you tease him just a little.

— Cut, flushed pink, curves slightly upward, and gets so hard it twitches when you praise him. Veins along the sides, ridiculously sensitive tip.

— Solid 6.5 inches

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

— High but sweet. He’s not pushy, not demanding. He just gets needy and blushy and curls up around you with a hopeful look.

— Morning wood? He’ll try to be subtle, but he keeps grinding into you in his sleep.

— He gets turned on so easily, just you changing clothes in front of him, or softly whispering something spicy while you’re out together.

— Will politely wait until you initiate things, but he’s practically vibrating with want most days.

— If he hasn’t gotten touched in a while, he gets adorably pouty and clingy. His hands wander, his eyes go soft, and you know he needs it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

— He’s out. Like, snuggle-you-until-he’s-snoring levels of passed out.

— He clings to you like a sleepy koala, burying his face into your neck or chest, murmuring how much he loves you while his heartbeat slows.

— Post-orgasm Bobby is a melty, sleepy puddle of limbs. You stroke his hair, and he goes limp.

— But even in his sleep, he keeps his arms around you. There’s no escaping, he’s your cuddle trap for the night.

— Will wake up the next morning with messy hair and sleepy eyes, kiss your shoulder, and ask “Did I do okay?”