the-simp-in-the-chat

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

Forbidden Romance Prompts

𓆙 “If anyone finds out—” - “Then let them.”

𓆙 “This is a mistake.” - “Then why does it feel like the most right thing I’ve ever done?”

𓆙 “We’re not supposed to do this.” - “Then stop kissing me like that.”

𓆙 “We promised we’d stay away from each other.” - “Yeah, well, I break promises for you.”

𓆙 “We’re on opposite sides.” - “Then I’ll burn down the whole field to stand in the middle with you.”

𓆙 “This will ruin everything.” - “I don’t care if it ruins the world. I choose you.”

𓆙 “You’re not safe with me.” - “Good. I’m tired of being careful.”

𓆙 “If anyone knew—” - “They’d never understand.” - “You don’t even understand.”

𓆙 “You’re a risk.” - “Worth taking?”

𓆙 “I’ll walk away. Just say the word.” - “…Don’t.”

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

Zhongli’s kisses.

At the beginning of your relationship, his kisses will tend to be chase and soft, and he’ll hold you in his arms as if you were a porcelain doll that could break at any rough touch. He’ll hold your head into his hands, leaning in before he’d delicately lock his lips to yours in a short, almost abrupt kiss that lasts long enough so he could feel your taste, short enough to leave you wanting more.

If you were to pull him in for the kiss again, he’ll let you take the lead and would try to follow your movements: gently nibbling on your bottom lip if you nibbled on his top lip, almost shyly opening up his mouth so your tongue could find his. You’ll feel him almost freeze against your touch, unused to such tender gestures, as he tries to match your pace. In the heat of the moment, he may bite on your lip a little bit too roughly, almost plunging his tongue into your mouth as his head is pushing back on yours. His strong hands are tightly wrapped around your waist, not allowing you to let go, his hot grunts against your skin making your knees go weak, his intensity overwhelming you. This mainly comes from his inexperience, and you’ll need to guide him a little bit.

Whenever this happens, he loves it when you cup his head into your hands, pulling him away, taking a moment to look into his eyes – their color turned into a burning amber as he lost his composure – before you run your thumbs against his wet lips, reminding him to be a little bit more gentle. He’ll apologize swiftly, and you’d feel him wanting to pull away, surprised at himself, feeling a twinge of guilty for being so rash. It was not his intention at all to make you feel uncomfortable. For this reason, he’s extremely thankful when you pull him back in, whispering “Not like this, but like that” as you softly press his lips to his once again. You’ll feel him smiling into the kiss, sending a wake of goosebumps down your spine as he is melting into your hands, his tense muscles slowly relaxing as he is trying to, once again, match your flow.

Once he gets the hang of it, however, things will swiftly change, and his kisses will become more precise, more tender, almost too perfect, almost too caring, slowly becoming rougher and rougher with each moan and whimper you let out. It’s not as if he doesn’t want to ravish you from the very beginning, no, it’s just that he thinks that good things should be thoroughly enjoyed without being rushed, so he is going to take his sweet time with you. In his eyes, you are his goddess, and his kisses only his prayers.

He’ll pull you in, his arms wrapped around you, claiming your mouth with unmatched tenderness, his soft lips against yours sending a wave of tingles down your body as his lips urge you to open up for him, to let him savor your sweet taste. You complied, giving in to his wishes, feeling his tongue swirl against yours as he invaded all of your senses. His smell was intoxicating, it was the only thing you could feel as your knees were slowly giving in, your body getting more mellow and mellow in his embrace. He’ll keep his hands tightly wrapped around you, holding you against his body, as he breaks the kiss to rest his head on your shoulder, his soft hair tingling your cheeks.

He’ll glide his hand towards the small of your back, and, with his index finger, middle finger, and ring finger, he’ll start tracing your spine with featherlight touches, slowly going up to the nape of your neck as your body is washed in endless waves of tingles. You’ll feel his fingers gliding down again, and, this time, his hand will slide behind your shirt, ready to slowly lift it up and to unravel your bare skin. He’ll linger for a moment, waiting for your reaction.

Your lips will escape a small moan when his fingers touch the small of your back, and he’ll take it as his cue to proceed: one hand trailing your spine as he’s lifting the shirt, the other trailing your waist. His hands feel slightly cold, his fingers are steady yet slippery against your soft skin, and, despite the fact that you feel embarrassed, you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. You want more, and he does too. He’ll carefully lift you up, bringing you to the closest bed, tenderly laying you down as he’s placing himself on top of you. This is when the praising is about to begin.

He’ll place his hands on your stomach, running his fingers against your skin, slowly going up your body, stretching his fingers so he could feel more of you. He’ll start to fondle your breasts, sinking his hands into your skin as he’s molding them to his pleasure, teasing your nipples between his thumb and index finger as they get harder and harder. Any touch will be accompanied by a praise, and he’ll tell you how good you feel against him, how obedient you are, how you soft your skin is, how he’s never seen anybody as beautiful as you, how he wants you to moan and whimper for him.

He’ll want to kiss your every scar, your every mole, your every freckle, and he will do so like a starved man, trailing all of your body in his kisses, leaving small marks on your collarbones as he goes up your neck and to your lips once again. This time, he’ll claim them roughly, kissing you as if you were his and his only, as if he was poisoned and you were his only cure. His touches send thrills to your stomach and the only thing you can smell is his musky, earthy scent; the only thing you can hear are his hot grunts and his delicious mutters. He’ll stifle your moans with his kisses, meeting your whimpers with his own, pulling away to look you in the eyes and to remind you how much he loves you, his eyes alight, glowing, burning with desire. He wants to learn your every sound, to squeeze all the whimpers out of you, to see your body contort under him, to make you feel so good that his name will be the only word that’ll escape your lips.

After getting so hot and heavy, he’ll cuddle up next to you, his fingers gently running up and down your arm as he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He worries. He worries that he may have been too rough or too intense, and he’ll ask you if you are feeling alright or if he went too far, his eyes gazing into yours. Once you reassure him that you enjoyed it, his lips will curl into a kind smile as he’ll place a kiss on your temple, thanking you for loving him.

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

I’ve been giggling about this for the last hour

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

The Symbolism of Weather

Weather in stories is not just there to make your characters wet or sweaty or annoyingly cold. It means stuff, like, big emotional metaphory stuff. You can totally use it to say what your characters aren’t saying out loud, or to punch your readers in the face with vibes.

༄ Storms – Big messy chaos energy. Fights or maybe Panic. Something bad is either happening or about to, like the universe is yelling “brace yourself!”

༄ Rain – Sad tears or soul shower, take your pick. Sometimes it’s like, "boohoo everything sucks," but also kinda healing? Think of it like an emotional reset button.

༄ Sunshine – Happiness, duh. But also those moments where everything is finally clear and warm and safe, even if just for a second.

༄ Fog – No one knows what the hell is going on. Secrets, confusion, probably someone making a very questionable decision.

༄ Wind – Change is coming, dear. Restlessness in the air...Could be thrilling, could be terrifying. Hair will get messed up either way.

༄ Snow – Either magical winter wonderland vibes... or total emotional frostbite. Loneliness, silence, maybe death if you’re feeling extra dramatic.

༄ Heatwave – Everyone’s cranky and sweaty and one second away from snapping. Tension is so thick you could cut it with a popsicle stick.

༄ Thunder – Something (or someone) is pissed off. Like divine wrath, or just the universe doing a mic drop.

༄ Lightning – FLASH of truth. Insight. Or rage. Whatever it is, it’s fast and it changes everything.

༄ Clear Sky – The deep exhale after the chaos, like things are finally chill. Maybe even… hopeful?

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

Angsty Dialogue Prompts

✭ I wanted you to fight for me. You didn’t.

✭ We don’t talk anymore, but I still think about what I’d say if we did.

✭ I’m tired of being the one who always cares more.

✭ I wish I could forget you like you forgot me.

✭ You left like it was easy. It shouldn’t have been easy.

✭ I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed in every possible version of us.

✭ You said forever and I believed you.

✭ Sometimes I think I’m still waiting for you to come back.

✭ I keep rewriting the ending in my head. None of them hurt less.

✭ You were home. And now I’m homeless.

✭ I loved you like you were oxygen. You treated me like I was smoke.

✭ I should’ve walked away first. But I wanted to believe in us too much.

✭ I’d still pick you, even knowing how it ends.

✭ You didn’t break my heart. You left it in your hands and forgot it was there.

✭ I gave you everything. You gave me almost.

✭ It wasn’t the leaving that hurt. It was how easily you did it.

✭ I keep finding your name in places I swear I erased it from.

✭ You loved me just enough to make me stay. But never enough to make it feel safe.

✭ I was a chapter. You were the whole damn book.

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

I will never forget the first time I read this fanfic on Ao3 and geeked the fuck out at MC taking selfies with Zayne while he is balls deep in her cunt being cock-warmed bro. It was an out of body experience.

It's genuinely lived in my mind rent free since I read it

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

Life abides no reason—For none are born by their own consent. Death abides no reason—For it cannot be defied. Time abides no reason—For it deprives us all equally. Space abides no reason—The...

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

ᝰ 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐍 .ᐟ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. he is a man of the cloth. a man of devotion, of restraint—or at least, he tries to be. but you, with your sweet mouth and sinful words and scandalous clothes, have driven him to the edge of madness.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. priest!zayne, temptress!reader, blasphemy, corruption, loss of virginity, mastrubation, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), fingering, clit stim, slight voyeurism, sex in public place, sexual intercourse, no protection, cervix kissing, panty sniffing, creampie, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, lots of nasty talk in confessionals, pussy whipped zayne

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 6.5k

the church was a furnace, the air thick and heavy with the heat of a relentless summer day. sunlight softly spilled through the stained-glass of the church, casting hues of red, gold, and blue across the worn wooden pews and the stone floors. the air was scented with aged hymnals and beeswax from candles that flickered at the altar. the heady aroma of incense created a nearly intoxicating atmosphere.

you sat beside your grandmother, who silently recited prayers under her breath with rosary beads in hand. your mind, however, was very far from divine and holy thoughts. you had been coming to the church for a month now—don't get me wrong, you were the furthest thing from religious. matter of fact, a month ago you wouldn't have been caught dead in a church unless it was a funeral and you were the one in the casket. but for the sake of your grandmother, you decided to try and make an effort, even if that was just showing up for sunday mass.

your eyes wandered to the front of the church, where father zayne stood. his deep voice echoed through the sanctuary as he delivered the sermon, each word hanging in the air. he stood at the pulpit, his tall, commanding figure bathed in the warm, golden light streaming through the stained-glass windows.

the high white collar at his neck was pristine, but it did nothing to hide the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on his skin, catching the light as he moved. the tight black cassock he wore was perfectly tailored to his lean frame. the fabric clung to his broad shoulders and emphasized the definition of his chest. the heat had caused the fabric to stick to him in all the right places, and every shift of his body revealed just enough to make your imagination run wild.

his almost always perfect hair was slightly damp and tousled, the strands falling across his forehead in a way that was effortlessly disheveled. his skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat. a bead of sweat trailed down the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the white collar, and the sight was enough to make even the most devout parishioner's thoughts stray into dangerous territory.

when his gaze landed on you, your breath felt trapped in your lungs. it was as if he could see the sinful thoughts swirling in your mind, the way your heart raced every time he spoke, the way your skin prickled with heat that had nothing to do with the summer sun.

after the service, you lingered in the church, pretending to light a candle while your grandmother chatted with some of the other parishioners. you found yourself seated at one of the pews as your eyes followed zayne moving about the sanctuary.

even as he conversed with the other churchgoers, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, probably due to your "inappropriate" attire for church. it was like he could tell with each visit you made that your skirts were growing shorter and your shirts were getting tighter. you noticed father zayne to be an extremely observant man.

he was a man of god, and you were the complete opposite.

he approached you, his shadow falling over your own. "you've become a regular here at saint mary's," he remarked, clearing his throat.

"my grandmother drags me here every sunday. she says that i've 'lost' my faith," you replied. he was playing right into your hands by speaking to you first. you had been plotting on him and little did he know what was to come.

"lost it?" he asked, his brows furrowing slightly. anyone could tell by the way that you were dressed in a church that you had long lost your faith. but who knew maybe he was one that didn't like to judge a book by it's cover.

"well, never really had it in the first place, i think," you shrugged indifferently.

"interesting." he nodded, taking a seat at the bench beside you. his eyes settled on the candle you'd lit, then back to you. "but you come every sunday, nonetheless. why is that?"

"i like listening to you talk, you have a nice voice," you replied shamelessly. "and you are quite easy on the eyes, father."

"i'm flattered," he laughed as his lips quirked into a slight smile. "you seem to enjoy the sermons, but you never take communion. you never participate in the service."

"that's... true," you agreed. "it's not something that i believe in."

his eyes seemed to take in the sight of you. he glanced at your breasts, which strained against the tight white fabric of your shirt. you saw the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. man of the cloth or not, at the end of the day, he was still a man.

"well," he began, his voice lower than before, "do you believe in god?" he asked, his gaze flicking to the hem of your skirt. you fought the urge to fidget beneath his stare.

the way his eyes raked over your body was not that of a man of faith, but a man of flesh.

"no, i don't," you replied honestly, feeling goosebumps spread across your skin. "i think that maybe people just use the church as a crutch, a way to justify their own wrongdoings. i think that religion has the power to tear people apart."

"that's a dangerous way to think. i could have you excommunicated for such thoughts," he warned, a dark undertone creeping into his voice. it was as if he knew your words had been a way to bait him, to draw him in and tempt him to sin.

"but i'm not one of your congregation," you countered with a smile. "so i'd rather not be punished for my beliefs," you added. the sound of your voice seemed to draw his eyes to your mouth, and he stared at you with an intense hunger in his gaze.

he finally looked away, clearing his throat. "well, i should be on my way. enjoy your sunday," he murmured before turning to walk toward the back of the church.

"you as well, father," you called after him, smiling to yourself. you knew you'd see him again. maybe it was the thrill of the forbidden that challenged you, but something in you craved his attention. you wanted to know what happened to men of the cloth when they finally broke their vow of celibacy.

and you knew exactly what to do to get that reaction from him.

a month went by and your visits to the church became more frequent. you'd sit in the sanctuary praying or at least pretending to pray. zayne would sit at the front of the sanctuary, doing what priests did, sometimes occasionally checking in. but his focus seemed to waver whenever you were near. every now and then, his eyes would flicker up, catching yours with a look that was hard to decipher. it wasn't just disdain, though that was certainly part of it. there was something else simmering beneath the surface.

you could feel his gaze like a physical touch, lingering on you longer than it should. it was as if he was trying to figure you out, to understand why you kept coming back when you so openly rejected everything the church stood for.

his jaw would tighten, his fingers gripping the rosary beads in his hand a little tighter. the way he looked at you was almost accusatory, as though you were deliberately testing his patience, his resolve. almost like a devil lying in wait for a moment of weakness.

you would watch him as his eyes darkened with something that looked almost like...lust. you craved that look on him. you craved the way his breathing slowed, the way the beads in his hand clicked faster when you were near. you craved it all, every bit of reaction you could pull from him.

and so you began to make a show for him, slowly bending over in your short skirts, or adjusting your tits in front of him. your actions had gotten bolder over the weeks.

there were times when you swore you caught a glimpse of something, just a flash of something perverted and more sinful in his eyes. you wondered if he even knew he was revealing himself, showing his true nature. but it wasn't enough, he was a tougher nut to crack than you thought.

it was time to try something different.

the following sunday, you returned to the church before mass, this time alone. you slipped into the confessional and waited for him to join you. the confessional was small, cloaked in shadow, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and faint incense. you could hear the soft rustle of fabric as he shifted on the other side of the screen, his presence palpable even through the thin screen that separated you. his voice, deep and velvety, broke the silence.

"speak, my child," he said, his tone calm and soothing.

"bless me, father, for i have sinned," you began, "this is my first time in a confessional."

"what kind of sins have you committed?" the sound of his voice is huskier than you've ever heard before.

"well, father...i'm not quite sure how to put this delicately," you murmured as you fidget, your thighs pressing together. your cunt was already fluttering and all it took was hearing that voice of his. you heard the soft rustle of his cassock as he shifted, awaiting your confession.

"but there's this man," you began, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart in your ears. "and he's very devout. i'm sure he's very pure too," you said as your palm slid over your bare thigh. your clit was throbbing against the fabric of your panties, the ache growing with every passing second.

he remained silent but the sound of his breathing grew heavier, the click of his rosary beads against each other grew faster.

"well," you continued, your thumb slipping beneath the hem of your skirt as you trailed it higher and higher, "this man...he's very handsome. and so holy." your eyes fluttered closed as your fingers slipped between your thigh, teasing your needy clit over the cloth of you panties.

"sometimes i imagine him touching me," you whispered as you slipped your fingers into your panties and brushed your finger over your swollen pearl. your nerve endings sparked to life, his presence alone had your arousal more heighten than usual. you imagined the look on his face as he pictured it in his mind, you sitting there in the confessional touching yourself.

"what do you do, father? when a man of cloth such as yourself finds himself devoured by lust, " you whispered, the sound barely audible between your ragged breaths. you teased your finger against your entrance.

oh, the amount of money you would pay to see the look on his face right now. was his jaw clenched the way it did when you teasingly bent over in your short skirts? were his knuckles white from gripping his rosary beads the way he did when he trailed his eyes over your skimpy shirt? or even better was he leaning closer to the screen, listening to the slick sounds of your cunt.

you slipped your finger into your heat—a low whimper slipping past your lips. the sound seemed to echo through the confessional.

"do you confess them, father? do you beg forgiveness?" you taunted as you began to tease yourself, the faint sounds of your finger moving in and out of your cunt, the squelching and lewd noise filling the space between you two.

"i beg for strength," his voice was strained, and the words sounded like they had been torn from his throat against his will. you smiled to yourself as you continued to chase your orgasm, your moans growing louder.

the feeling of his gaze through the screen, the knowledge that he could hear you and knew exactly what you were doing, was enough to send your senses into overdrive.

"i don't think we should continue this conversation," his voice came out thick and heavy. you heard a slight click in his voice that betrayed his arousal. you were finally able to hear that thickening of his voice, it made you want to push him further and further, it was like music to your ears.

"why father? it's just between us."

his breathing came out harsher, almost labored. "because you're a temptress," he gritted out, the words leaving a thick, heavy tone lingering in the air.

"oh? so you don't touch yourself?" you asked. you leaned your head against the screen, your hand moving quicker against your cunt. the screen was thin and you knew he could smell your arousal, the sweet, heady scent of it.

"i don't believe that's an appropriate question to ask," he responded almost too quickly. but you noticed the way his voice cracked with his answer. just the thought of you being the first to touch him, to milk his neglected and heavy cock drove you closer to the edge.

you were so close. the air was thick in the room and you knew that he could practically taste your orgasm.

"i want to touch myself for you," you whispered. "the way you look at me...it's like you want to taste me, father. and i want you to."

your words were cut off by a sharp gasp as you tipped over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like waves, your body shuddering beneath the pleasure. you kept your eyes shut until your breathing had returned to normal.

when you opened them again, father zayne was gone.

as you stepped out of the confessional, you glanced back to see him standing at the altar, his back to you, his head bowed as if in prayer. but you knew better. you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched at his sides. he was fighting it—fighting you—and that only made the game more thrilling.

you walked out of the church, the summer heat wrapping around you like a warm embrace. this was far from over, and you knew it. zayne might have ended the session, but the look in his eyes, the tremor in his voice—it told you everything you needed to know. he was tempted.

and you were just getting started.

"father, if i didn't know any better, i'd say that you are avoiding me," you purred into his ear. your body brushed against his back as you snuck up on him. he had been avoiding you since you'd made your confession a week before. it had been long enough that you'd grown restless.

he stiffened in place, his spine straightening as he gazed straight ahead. but his voice, when he spoke, was tight with tension. "perhaps i am."

the church was empty except for the two of you. mass had ended and the sun was setting. the shadows were growing longer, stretching over the church floor, darkening everything. you had snuck in while the other parishioners had filtered out, intent on confronting the priest who had been avoiding you all week.

you wouldn't let him get away that easily, not yet.

"why?" you whispered, your lips brushing the curve of his ear. the air in the church was thick with heat and with anticipation, a heavy tension settling between the two of you.

the muscles of his throat convulsed as he swallowed. "because...i'm afraid i don't trust myself around you."

that was progress. that was an admission that meant a lot more than he probably realized. you stepped closer, your breasts pressing against his back, your thigh slipping against his. his breathing quickened as he fought against whatever temptation you'd stirred within him. you watched the muscles of his jaw clench, his hands curling into fists. he looked like a man fighting for the last bits of control that he possessed.

"you may think me a temptress, father, and you may not agree with my ways but i am not a liar. i think a man such as yourself deserves to experience love and desire and everything between," you whispered in his ear and before he could respond, you slipped around to his front.

you pushed onto your toes and your lips brushed against his, softly.

"allow me to make one more confession to you, father. if you don't change your mind, i will leave you be and not return,"  you murmured. there was no way you were letting him go that easily. you'd already gotten this far, why stop now.

his eyes narrowed as he searched your face, and you could practically see the war happening within him. he knew that you were tempting him, that he was walking into a trap.

the confessional booth was dark and warm, the scent of aged wood filling the small space.

"proceed," he bit out, his voice sharp with restraint. you didn't wait any longer, diving into your confession.

"father, i have done many things i am not proud of, but my greatest sin is lust. a lust for pleasure. a lust for you," your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, the sound of the rosary beads clicking against each other the only sound between you and him. his breathing had already quickened, the beads clicking faster against each other.

"and when i think of you, father, i think of how i would touch you," you murmured, the sound of your breaths heavy in the small space between the two of you, "i imagine my hands sliding over your hard stomach. i imagine pushing up your cassock and wrapping my hand around your cock," your words left you both breathless. you could here the shuffling of his cassock over the silent buzz of the fan. 

"what i truly desire is a taste of your cock, to hear the sounds of your moans and to see the sight of you coming undone, your seed dripping down my chin. to feel the heavy weight of your body on top of mine. i desire to take your virginity, your innocence, your purity."

"are you okay, father?" you asked, "you're breathing awfully hard," you teased.

you didn't dare imagine the expression on his face. you didn't have to. you could feel his eyes on you, boring into the screen. you could practically hear his heart racing, the blood rushing to his cock. the thought of him hard for you had your clit pulsing, your cunt clenching.

you squirmed beneath the fabric of your skirt, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra.

"yes, i am fine," he answered, his voice gruff with restraint. the sound of cloth shifting against cloth echoed through the space between you two, his breathing was suspiciously shallow.

you rose to your feet and exited your side of the confessional. you pulled back the curtain of the confessional on his side. the faint light streaming from the sanctuary illuminated him enough for you to see the look of arousal on his face. his cheeks were flushed, his eyes heavy with lust, his lips parted with shallow breaths.

the restraint of father zayne had simmered down to the faint shade of pink on his cheeks that spread to the tips of his ears. he looked like a man on the edge of madness, his eyes wild with something unspoken. you smiled to yourself, enjoying the effect you'd had on him. for once, it was good to know that you weren't the only one being driven to madness.

the air in the confessional seemed to grow hotter, the heat emanating from him enough to set your pulse racing. your heart pounded in your ears as your eyes traveled his body. he'd removed his cassock, sitting before you in a thin white shirt that was soaked with sweat. the cotton clung to him, revealing the definition of his hard body.

the fabric was nearly translucent, revealing the hard lines of his chest and the faint outline of his abdomen. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles of his forearms, and his face was flushed. you could tell it wasn't from the heat of the blazing summer—it was from arousal.

he sat on the bench, his thighs spread wide, his cock already hard and heavy, straining against the fabric of his trousers. the sight of him in such a state was enough to leave you breathless. he said nothing, merely gazing at you with a hunger in his eyes.

you didn't hesitate, stepping forward and dropping to your knees before him. he reached out to grip your wrist, pulling you closer until you were wedged between his knees. his hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your head closer until your mouth was nearly flush with his, breathing softly against your lips. the heat radiating from him was enough to make your skin tingle with awareness. the thick scent of arousal surrounded you both, making your senses go into overdrive.

he traced the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. he seemed to be savoring every inch of you, committing your features to memory. he licked his lips before leaning in, and the first brush of his mouth against yours left you both groaning.

his hands slid beneath your shirt, sliding over the bare skin of your back as he pulled you closer. he didn't waste any time, his tongue dipping into the warmth of your mouth. the kiss was deep and hungry, filled with all the desire he'd been fighting for weeks. you clutched at the front of his shirt, twisting it in your fingers as you melted against him.

his hands roamed your body, his palms sliding over the curve of your hips, dipping lower until they were beneath your skirt. he gripped your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he deepened the kiss. you were panting against his lips when he finally released you. your fingers slid through his hair, keeping his head tilted up so you could press another kiss against his mouth. but then his hands moved, sliding around to the front of your thighs. his fingers trailed over your pussy, the thin fabric of your panties the only barrier between you.

he groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking forward at the contact. his cock strained against the fabric, eager to be freed. you didn't make him wait, your hands reaching for the hem of his slacks as you pushed them down, revealing his straining cock.

it was long and thick, the head swollen with arousal. you couldn't help yourself, your hand reaching out to wrap around the base of his cock. his eyes fluttered closed as you stroked him, his head tipping back. a low groan spilled from his lips as you teased the tip of his cock, smearing the fluid that had gathered over his slit.

you took your time, enjoying the sight of his pleasure. your lips trailed over his chest, sucking at his nipples until they were red and swollen. your tongue trailed lower until you were licking a path over the length of his cock. he gripped your hair, tugging your head back as he gazed at you with a wild look in his eyes.

"please," he whined as you settled between his knees, his cock at the entrance of your lips. never in his thirty years of life has he ever been this desperate. he wanted those plump lips of your to be the first and last to milk his virgin cock.

you opened your mouth and his cock slid inside, the head resting against the roof of your mouth as your lips wrapped around him. your tongue swirled over the head of his cock, your throat fluttering with a moan as he began to thrust his hips.

his hand tightened in your hair as he thrust into your mouth, a string of curses falling from his lips. he muttered a litany of curses under his breath, his hips working into a frenzy as he fucked your mouth.

you pressed a palm to his thigh, holding yourself in place as he thrust deeper into your mouth. your eyes watered but you didn't let that stop you. the sounds of his moans, the feeling of him losing control with each passing second. it was music to your ears, and it made your pussy wetter.

you hollowed your cheeks as he began to fuck your throat, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. the pressure built in his balls as he neared his release, his movements becoming erratic and wild. you moaned around his cock as he pressed deeper into your throat, your fingers digging into his thighs. the sound of you choking on his cock seemed to push him over the edge.

he moaned loudly, his cock spurting against the roof of your mouth. you swallowed down his cum, greedily drinking it all. you sucked him through his orgasm until he was spent, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet sound.

he collapsed back against the confessional, his breathing ragged and loud. you rested your head in his lap for a moment before looking up at him.

"lord, forgive me," he panted, his breathing slow but returning to normal. but the look on his face was far from asking for forgiveness, he wanted more. his hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb trailing over your bottom lip.

"perhaps this is your first sin, father," you teased as you shifted to your feet. you stood up and removed your panties. he watched you, his gaze raking over the curves of your body.

"what do you want me to do to you?" he asked as you tossed your soaked panties on his spent cock before turning towards the exit of the confessional.

you glanced back at him, your smile devious. the sight was one to behold, his eyes were drowning with desire, his cheeks blazing with lust. his cock adorned with your lace panties and still twitching from his release. 

"oh, father, i've already gotten what i wanted from you. the rest...well, that's for another time," you winked at him before stepping out of the confessional. the darkness enveloped him once more and you slipped away, disappearing into the sanctuary. you knew that this was only just the beginning. 

the thrill of temptation had turned into the thrill of something more. you'd finally managed to tempt him into sinning. the next step would be much harder. he'd have to break his vow of celibacy with you.

the following week, you didn't return to the church. you didn't show up to mass on sunday's. you didn't come to confessionals in the early mornings. you left him alone to dwindle with his thoughts.

soon zayne found that the memory of your lips wrapped around his cock was only thing in his head. his body ached for more. the taste of your cherry lipgloss, the feel of your soft skin beneath his fingers. 

he knew it was wrong, it was unholy to think of such things. but he couldn't help himself. the memory of you had consumed him whole. he could swear that he could still smell the scent of your arousal mixed with your floral perfume. as if it was engraved in his soul and etched into his skin.

it had been too long, much too long without your touch. he needed it to breath. your absence was like a knife stabbed straight into his heart. he couldn't even look at the confessional booth without having flashbacks of you fingering yourself and sucking his cock. 

everywhere he looked, there was a lingering reminder of you. when he looked amongst the churchgoers in the pews, he would think of the way you'd inch your skirt up higher whenever his gaze landed on you. 

he couldn't sleep, and when he did sleep it was your lips he saw haunting him. his cock throbbed at the thought of you and you only. he would have to give in to you, but he would never admit it to your face. 

he'd spend his sleepless nights fisting his cock to memories of you. when that wasn't enough he drown himself in the scent of your panties and imagine that it was your hands rubbing his cock instead of his. he would remember how your cunt smelled, sweet and heady and more potent than anything he'd ever experienced.

you had won.

the temptation was no longer just a sin, but something more. a need. you had unleashed a monster on the loose, and he would not stop until you had given him everything he wanted. and he wanted all of you. he wanted your cunt, your ass, your mouth. he wanted it all, and he'd have it if it was the last thing he did.

and so he waited for your return, his body restless for the touch he'd grown accustomed to.

his eyes would be scanning the sanctuary each sunday, watching as the other people filtered in. he waited for your smile, your voice, your eyes. he would wait forever if he had to.

you were a temptation, a demon he couldn't resist. and soon he'd give in. the devil had him on a leash and you were holding the other end. and at your first command he'd kneel.

the summer days had begun to dwindle, the autumn winds rolling in over the hills. the leaves had just begun to fall from the trees, blanketing the ground in a warm shade of red, gold, and orange.

you'd returned to the church one evening and patiently laid in wait in zayne's study. you'd known that his resolve had grown weak, that his body yearned for yours.

his study was small and dim, the walls lined with bookshelves and the room lit by the flickering flame of a single candle. the heavy scent of aged books and leather clung to the air, filling your lungs as you inhaled. the shadows that danced across the walls gave the room a romantic atmosphere, but you'd never been one for romance.

the door clicked open, and father zayne stepped in, his movements quiet as he glanced around the room. he seemed to take in his surroundings before his gaze found you.

"father," you greeted, sauntering toward him. he stood, frozen in place, watching you with a look that was almost predatory. you stepped closer until you were toe to toe, and the feeling of his breath against your face made your cunt pulse.

"i've been waiting for you," he admitted, his voice a deep rasp. his hand reached out, cupping the curve of your ass. you shivered beneath his touch, the feeling of his palm against your skin enough to light a fire in you. he pulled you against him, his hips cradling yours. his cock was hard and straining against the front of his cassock.

"have you now, father?" you teased, your hands sliding over his chest. you'd missed the feel of his body against yours, had missed the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips. you pushed his cassock open, your hands sliding down his stomach until you felt the head of his cock. he groaned, his breath hot against your neck as you began to stroke his cock through his pants.

"yes," he admitted, the word barely above a whisper. his lips pressed against your neck, his mouth trailing over your skin until he was sucking at the curve of your throat. you tipped your head back, his teeth nipping at your skin and sending a jolt of arousal through you.

the way his mouth felt against your skin was like magic. you wanted that mouth on other parts of your body, parts that you'd been craving his touch against.he pulled you back by the hair, his eyes dark and hungry.

"i want to taste you," he groaned, the sound rough with arousal.you stood on shaky legs and began to undress, removing your clothing until you stood in nothing but your panties. he watched you hungrily, his hand reaching out to brush against your breasts. you smiled as you slipped your panties down your thighs, kicking them to the side. his eyes were trained on your naked body, and you could practically see the hunger growing in him.

you stepped closer, and his hands went to your hips. he plopped you down on his desk, settling your thighs on his shoulders.  you watched as he dropped to his knees, his face hovering just inches from your pussy.

the first touch of his tongue against your clit sent a jolt of electricity through your body. you arched your back, your breath catching in your throat.the thought of a man so devout being brought to his knees by your cunt was enough to send you spiraling over the edge.

he laved at your puffy clit, his tongue swirling around the small bud with hungry strokes. he seemed fascinated by it, exploring every inch until he was sure he had it memorized. the first stroke of his tongue against the slit of your cunt made your toes curl. he licked you like a man who had never tasted heaven before, but now had his chance and wouldn't let it slip away.

he pressed a palm against you, spreading you wider for his tongue. he dove in, licking you with long, hard strokes. his tongue was magic, the way he ate at your cunt like a man starved. you writhed against his tongue, your eyes fluttering closed as he worked you toward an orgasm.

your cunt clenched around the feeling of emptiness, your body searching for something to fill you. his fingers brushed against your entrance and you almost wept with relief. you wanted them inside you, wanted to feel the thick length of him.

you leaned back against his desk, watching him as he fucked you with his fingers. he began to eat at your pussy with a hunger that would leave you breathless, his tongue sliding in and out of your pussy with hard, wet strokes. your clit throbbed against his tongue and you tipped your head back and screamed as the pleasure rolled through you.

he didn't stop, he didn't even pause as he fucked you through your orgasm. the feeling of his tongue and fingers moving in and out of you sent you into overdrive. your pussy clenched around his fingers as he continued to eat at you. it was like he was in a trance, only focusing on bringing you pleasure.

you gripped at his hair, pulling him up from between your legs. his face was red and flushed, his eyes glazed over with arousal. he was breathless as he gazed up at you, his lips and chin wet from your arousal.

he rose to his feet, his cock straining against his pants. you reached down to unzip him and freed his cock, the thick head springing free. you pumped it slowly with your hand, his cock growing even harder in your hand as he watched.

"i want to be inside you," he whispered, his hands cupping your breasts. he squeezed at the flesh and you gasped, the feeling of his cock against your thigh enough to make your cunt clench. he'd been a man of god for so long, but the touch of you had brought him back to life. he was a man again, with a man's desires and needs. you had been the catalyst for his descent into sin and he had no intention of stopping.

"then take me," you answered, your lips pressing against his. he moaned into your mouth as you guided his cock toward your entrance. he paused for a moment before pushing in, the head of his cock stretching you open. you gasped, your pussy clenching around him. his face pressed against your throat, his breathing coming out in shallow, ragged breaths.

"oh god," he gasped as he pushed deeper inside you. you had never been with a virgin before and the thought that you were his first sent a thrill through your body. he stretched you wider as he pushed inside until he was seated at the hilt.

"move," you gasped as he paused. he began to move, his strokes slow and deep yet inexperienced. his hips worked against yours in slow movements. his breathing quickened as he began to move faster, the sound of your cunt sucking him in filling the room.

you clutched at him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he began to pump into you. his breathing grew quick, his thrusts becoming erratic. you gripped at him, holding onto him as he fucked into you. the sound of your breathing mingled with that of his, echoing off the walls of the study.

his fingers reached down and gently strummed your overstimulated clit. your orgasm was immediate and intense, your cunt squeezing around him as you came.

his cock felt like magic, the feeling of it rubbing against your walls making you shiver. the friction was enough to bring you back to the edge and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. his breaths came in pants as he fucked you harder, his grip on your hips tightening as he began to lose control.

"you feel so good," he groaned against your throat. his words sent shivers down your spine. "gonna fuck my cum into your pretty cunt."

he began to rut into you, his breathing coming in pants as his thrusts turned wild and erratic. the thick tip of his cock bruising your cervix at a brutal pace that hurt so deliciously. you clutched at his back, holding on as he began to come inside you.

his release set you off and your orgasm crashed over you. your pussy clenched around him, milking every drop of his cum from his cock. you rode the wave of your orgasm, your cunt pulsing with pleasure. he collapsed against you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.

you held him in place, running your fingers through the thickness of his hair as his breathing began to return to normal. his cock slipped out of you with a lewd squelch—his eyes transfixed on the mixture of his cum and your cream that painted your cunt and his cock.

"i can't resist you," he whispered against your skin. you ran your fingers through his hair.

"who said you had to?" you murmured back, running your fingers over the curve of his jaw.

you tilted his chin up until he was gazing up at you.  the look in his eyes was one of pure adoration, and that was what had sealed your fate. you had never thought to want to keep him, but there it was, a new feeling stirring to life inside you.

he was the one man you could never resist and you had a feeling that he would always be so. you'd have to keep him, keep him locked away for yourself. because the truth of the matter was, you could never let him go. he was yours and yours alone. and you would make sure of that.

he would be your little secret.

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

We’re getting busy tonight 😩

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

DOELUCIFERWEEK2025

Howdy

✨📻🍎

Here is the first part of #DOELUCIFERWEEK2025 Day 3 ^^

On Wattpad

www.wattpad.com/1545727044-l...

www.wattpad.com/1546939730-t...

On AO3

archiveofourown.org/works/660889... archiveofourown.org/works/660893...

Thanks again for @alastorsart for the cover, I love it more each time ^^

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

When a Character Is Angry but Doesn’t Know Why

Not all rage is loud. Sometimes it simmers. Sometimes it sneaks in. Especially for characters who aren’t used to feeling things or grew up in environments where anger wasn’t safe to express. So when it starts showing up, they don’t even recognize it as anger. They just feel… off. Wrong. Tense.

✧ They get irritated by things that never used to bother them. The way someone chews. A clock ticking. The sound of their name. They can’t explain it, they just feel raw, like their skin doesn’t fit.

✧ They isolate, but don’t call it that. Suddenly, they’re “too tired” to go out. “Too busy” to reply. But really, they don’t trust themselves to be around people without snapping.

✧ They pick fights over things that don’t matter. Because it’s easier to yell about the dishes than admit they feel powerless, unworthy, or invisible.

✧ They can’t sit still. Pacing. Fidgeting. Restlessness that feels like there’s a wasp trapped under their skin and they can’t get it out.

✧ They joke, but it stings. Sarcasm that cuts a little too deep. “Just teasing” that leaves bruises. Humor becomes a weapon they don’t even realize they’re using.

✧ They blame themselves for feeling bad. Instead of thinking something is wrong, they think I’m wrong for feeling this way. The anger turns inward. Self-criticism sharpens.

✧ They can’t cry, and it scares them. They want to break. To feel something clean. But all they feel is the pressure building, and it doesn’t go anywhere.

✧ They eventually explode, and hate themselves for it. One wrong word and suddenly it’s fire. And after? Shame. Guilt. Confusion. Like, What was that? What’s wrong with me?

✧ Their anger isn’t just anger. It’s grief in disguise. That’s the twist. Most of the time, the anger is covering up a heartbreak they haven’t admitted yet.

✧ They’re not “bad” for being angry. They’re human. Write that. Let them be messy and let them feel without always knowing why.

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

Unhealed Wounds Your Character Pretends Are Just “Personality Traits”

These are the things your character claims are just “how they are” but really, they’re bleeding all over everyone and calling it a vibe.

╰ They say they're "independent." Translation: They don’t trust anyone to stay. They learned early that needing people = disappointment. So now they call it “being self-sufficient” like it’s some shiny badge of honor. (Mostly to cover up how lonely they are.)

╰ They say they're "laid-back." Translation: They stopped believing their wants mattered. They'll eat anywhere. Do anything. Agree with everyone. Not because they're chill, but because the fight got beaten out of them a long time ago.

╰ They say they're "a perfectionist." Translation: They believe mistakes make them unlovable. Every typo. Every bad hair day. Every misstep feels like proof that they’re worthless. So they polish and polish and polish... until there’s nothing real left.

╰ They say they're "private." Translation: They’re terrified of being judged—or worse, pitied. Walls on walls on walls. They joke about being “mysterious” while desperately hoping no one gets close enough to see the mess behind the curtain.

╰ They say they're "ambitious." Translation: They think achieving enough will finally make the emptiness go away. If they can just get the promotion, the award, the validation—then maybe they’ll finally outrun the feeling that they’re fundamentally broken. (It never works.)

╰ They say they're "good at moving on." Translation: They’re world-class at repression. They’ll cut people out. Bury heartbreak. Pretend it never happened. And then wonder why they wake up at 3 a.m. feeling like they're suffocating.

╰ They say they're "logical." Translation: They’re terrified of their own feelings. Emotions? Messy. Dangerous. Uncontrollable. So they intellectualize everything to avoid feeling anything real. They call it rationality. (It's fear.)

╰ They say they're "loyal to a fault." Translation: They mistake abandonment for loyalty. They stay too long. Forgive too much. Invest in people who treat them like an afterthought, because they think walking away makes them "just as bad."

╰ They say they're "resilient." Translation: They don't know how to ask for help without feeling like a burden. They wear every bruise like a trophy. They survive things they should never have had to survive. And they call it strength. (But really? It's exhaustion wearing a cape.)

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

LaDs: First to make a sound loses

~Winner of the poll! I wanted something quick to write and somehow my brain felt this was the right thing to add... yeah sure girl I shoulda known from the start y’all would want this lol

~Contains all love interests with a female reader

Warning, this post contains: Smut, please read with caution! Pussy eatin, dick suckin, fingering, p in v sex, you know the drill

Xavier

A stupid bet, one you should have never made.

You should have thought about it before letting it leave your lips but you didn’t… dammit!

Your nails dug deep, threading through white-blonde locks of hair and yanking hard. If you couldn’t get Xavier to make a sound through pleasure… maybe you could through pain.

The man anchored between your parted thighs didn’t budge, not even a hitch in his breathing as you nearly pulled a fistful of hair out of his head. No, Xavier was in his own universe, tongue prodding at your soaking entrance.

“First to make a sound loses!”

“And what does the winner get?”

“The freedom to do whatever they want to the other.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Making such a bet with your already quiet lover, it was like you wanted to fail. Xavier’s nose bumped your puffy clit and you saw stars, your teeth brutally biting down on your lip to swallow any whines.

You were slowly slipping into panic, body and brain sending mixed signals as Xavier ate your pussy as if it were his last meal. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what your lover would want to do if you lost…

Warm hands kept your thighs spread, moving up and down the length of skin in a soothing manner. The additional sensation making your skin break out in goosebumps as sinful lips wrapped around your throbbing clit.

“X-avier…” you choked, not quite a moan or whimper, but enough for blue eyes to lock with yours. The sight alone had you gritting your teeth, he was too much.

“S’too much! Too intense!” If you didn’t snap your mouth shut a moment later you were positive you’d spill. Xavier only huffed out a laugh, the sensation warming your cunt. He was going to play dirty, so dirty. His lips suctioned just as he slid two fingers into your sopping cunt.

You couldn’t help it, not when his fingers curled right into that sweet spot. Your entire body tensed, head falling back against the pillows as a guttural moan fell past your swollen bitten lips. Your release covered his chin, his fingers, and his tongue eagerly licked you clean.

Xavier had won.

Rafayel

He really thought he could pull one over on you.

I mean really, Rafayel thought he had a chance at winning against you in a bet you had made? Big mistake.

"Whoever makes a sound loses..."

He had been so smug, too smug, and now his knuckles were white as he fisted his silk sheets so hard they were groaning under the force.

You were on your knees putting on a damn show, mouth stuffed with his cock and your watery eyes peering up at him as if he hung every single star in the sky just for you. "C-cutie..." a stutter, one that forced him to seal his lips again in fear of losing.

You only hummed, the sound vibrating his entire length as you dared to swallow around him. He had trained you too god damn well, you could deep throat him without gagging now. Something you had both eagerly worked to achieve together over the months.

Though, Rafayel was starting to regret the training, if he could just get you to gag around his cock, he'd win. But even as his hips stuttered up into the tight heat of your mouth, you didn't budge.

Your jaw relaxed, tongue flattening on the underside of his cock as you let him fuck your face with flushed cheeks.

All it would take is one look, and you knew your lover would crumble. The second his head tilted back, jaw clenched and eyes shut, you knew you were on the verge of winning. Your hands splayed over his thighs, nails scratching at his skin until his entire body was shaking from the sensation.

Your cheeks hollowed out, suctioning to him as you drew back and pressed his hips down. Your focus turned to his tip, dark and leaking, begging for release.

Your tongue swirled, coating in the salty precum that dribbled out, and you had to swallow a moan before you forgot where you were and what was at stake. Winning the bet was seconds away, you just needed to…

“F-fuck I’m cumming!”

A higher pitched cry left Rafayel’s lips, his cum shooting down your throat as his hips stuttered into your mouth.

You had won the bet.

Zayne

You’d bury your face in the pillow if you could.

But Zayne had other plans, determined to not let you pull a fast one to win this silly little bet. Really, you thought you could stay quiet while he fucked you senseless? Adorable.

“C’mon sweetheart, I know you’ve got it in you…” his hips were brutal as they slammed into your cunt, you were positive you’d have bruises left on the back of your thighs at this rate. Tears swam across your vision, Zayne’s hand holding a fistful of your hair to keep you from hiding.

You had managed to swallow your noises for three orgasms. Fat tears leaking down your cheeks and blood dribbling down your chin from how hard you bit your lip. Zayne had kissed it all away, smug about it too.

“C’mon, give me a pretty moan, you know you wanna.” And god did you, you wanted to be his good girl. But you also craved the feeling of victory. “My pretty baby, be good for me and make some noise…” he was evil.

All you could do was bite down harder, she’s shutting as you used every ounce of will power to hold onto sanity. He was fucking you within an inch of your life, cock kissing your cervix with every deep, devastating thrust.

“N-no!” You swallowed the whine, the lingering shakiness as your breasts bounced with each connect. Zayne only smirked, lips soft against your ear as he ran his fingers down your stomach. “You’re so wet.”

You clenched your teeth as he pulled you so your back was flush to his front, fingers rubbing skillfully at your swollen clit. “So sensitive because I made you cum so many times, right? You want me to touch her gently?” Just to rub harder, your body shaking, hips jerking wildly as if you could move fast enough to keep his fingers off.

“Don’t run from me, sweetheart.”

You were done for, so utterly screwed. You couldn’t help it, not when your fourth orgasm had you gushing around his cock. Never mind a moan, you screamed as you came.

Zayne won, a smug smile on his lips because of it.

Sylus

He’d never turn down a bet.

Sylus was certain he’d win. Like always, he took any and every challenge head on with a smug smirk on his lips. But… this? Oh this may be his toughest challenge yet.

Your cunt was sinful, softer than the finest silks, warm and wet and so snug. His eyes could cross just from entering you, the look on your face enough to make him blow his load just from slipping inside. “Shit, baby.”

His voice was somehow steady, his fingers gripping the pillow beside your head. The other was holding your waist, keeping you steady as he bottomed out.

“Sylus…so big…” determination was still shining in your eyes, making his heart swell. You wanted to win this stupid little bet as badly as he did.

“First to make a sound loses, deal?”

“Deal.”

Neither of you made a sound yet, but the swollen lips and flushed cheeks told you how hard it was to keep in. Still, Sylus drew his hips back half way before pushing in again. Simultaneously, your eyes squeezed shut. Bodies tense as you tried to keep your noises back.

Thrust after thrust, Sylus settled into a steady rhythm. Your legs hugging his hips every time he thrusted, keeping him close despite the overwhelming pleasure making you want to run away. “Sylus… I’m gonna…” he had barely began fucking you and you were going to cum.

“Then cum, let me f-feel you.” His cock was twitching, each brutal slam of his hips threatening to send him spiraling over the edge and emptying into you. “O-only if you make a noise, pretty.” But you shook your head, arms wrapping around his neck and yanking him down.

The force of your lips colliding was enough to punch a moan out of both of you. Orgasms crashing down almost instantaneously. You couldn’t even care, the pleasure vibrating through your veins enough to make you forget the silly challenge until you pulled away from him.

“Guess we both lost.”

Caleb

Why on earth would he ever take this bet?

To appease you of course. To see your sweet face twisted with victory when he inevitably cried like a baby because your pussy was just that damn good. "Whoever makes a sound first loses, winner gets to do whatever they want to the other, no limits."

Oh yeah, that sounded like the type of bet he would beg to lose. But, for you, he'd at least attempt to swallow his groans for a bit. Make it somewhat fun for you as he folds you in half and pounds you into the mattress like a dog in a rut. "Fuck, you're so hot, pips!"

You knew Caleb well enough to know that he was barely trying, the whiny lit to his voice was a dead giveaway. But if it meant he fucked you like he was trying to get you pregnant? You could live with it.

Your mouth was hanging open, only ragged breathing slipping past. Every moan and whimper swallowed before it could climb its way up your throat. One clench and you knew Caleb would crumble. So, to tease him, you held off. You wanted to see him sweat.

"Ya gonna cum for me, big boy? Fill me up?" It was slight, barely a squeeze, but enough that Caleb's eyes widened.

"Y-yes, fuck. You'll let me cum inside, right? Please?" There it was, the walls crumbling, he was so close to whimpering. "Yes, baby. You can cum inside of me, fill my cunt up so you're always with me." Dirty, embarrassingly filthy, but the open moan groan that rumbled Caleb's chest as he came made it so utterly worth it.

"I win, baby. Time to switch"

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

LaDs: You have a High Libido

~ inspired by an anon’s ask!

~ all love interests included

Warning, this post contains: smut, 18+ content, mentions of sex, sweat, cum, bodily fluids, you get the idea.

Xavier

⭐️He is thrilled actually, because so does he

⭐️Don’t let the sleepy tendencies fool you, Xavier is ready to go whenever (and wherever) you are

⭐️You can push him past his limits, even out do him in the horny department, and he’ll still attempt to keep up

“Again?” You’re both breathless, cheeks red and bodies sweaty. The room reeks of sex and sweat, with the comforting mix of your perfume and his cologne. The sheets are damp with your combined fluids, a variety of them for that matter. Sweat, drool, cum… definitely a wash day tomorrow! “Yes, please. I still need you Xavier.” You’ve cum so many times you’ve lost count, poor cunt so puffy that it’s a miracle you can even feel anything down there. Still, it’s aching, throbbing with need, you need him again. “Sure, baby.” And he’s on you, a worn out smile on his lips as he showers your heated skin in wet kisses. You can — and will — go until sunrise

Rafayel

🎨Rafayel’s libido on a normal day is pretty decent, he’s down whenever you are and that’s… often

🎨It takes him some time to build his stamina… unless it’s ebb day. Lemurian heat cycles are something else.

🎨He breaks before you do, but all it takes is the off hand comment of “I’ll finish myself” and he’s ready to go

“You’re tired, Raf. I’ll just go take care of—“ tired be damned, he’s hauling his sweat slicked body up and pushing you down again. “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.” His cheeks are a permanent crimson, pupils blown wide. Even if he is exhausted, his cock is still twitching at the sight of your ruined cunt. So much cum, arousal, all just leaking down your thighs. You’ve been going at it for two hours at this point, nonstop, barely a break between each round. Even if you didn’t mean too, you’re slowly training your lover to have a libido as high as yours. “It’s okay, re-really I can—shit!” He stops all complaints by shoving himself inside, one easy, slipper go. “I’m. Not. Stopping. Until you are satisfied, cutie.”

Zayne

🩺Zayne doesn’t quite know what to do with himself at first. He’s a tad bit overwhelmed by your high libido.

🩺Give him a little time, he’ll get used to it, and slowly realize his libido is pretty high up there too… just takes a couple weeks of separation and he’s ravenous

🩺Zayne controls the situation by edging you both, keeping the game going until you’re both exhausted

“Can’t cum yet, darling. Gotta hold it in.” It’s been an hour… maybe two? Possibly three. You’re not sure, nor do you care. You have Zayne wrapped around your finger… well maybe he had you wrapped around his finger but still. “P-please, Zayne! You’ve ruined it like…shit I can’t remember… seven times? Probably more…” what’s worse than being completely denied is having your orgasm ruined. He’s brought you to the edge, pushed you over, and then stood back and watched it fizzle out. Completely unsatisfying, your poor cunt twitching for more, a real one at that. “You’re doing so good for me though, the reward will be so good if you just…” a gentle motion with his fingers and you’re jerking into him. “…wait.”

Sylus

🍒He didn’t realize that your… eagerness could rub off on him so easily… or maybe he’s always been this way.

🍒Your high libido is damn near torture, considering you’re in Linkon and he’s in the N109 Zone… you’re always tied up with work, he’s always away for business…

🍒Even then, Sylus does try and make it so your time together isn’t entirely… sex. Doesn’t it always work? No.

“I swear all we do is fuck when we see eachother…” you’re giggling as you say it, laying on top of him, chest to chest. His slowly softening cock is begin to slip out of you, the copious amounts of release following. “Because it is all we do… you’re insatiable.” Sweaty and flushed, but still smug, Sylus is twirling your hair around his fingers. “Hey!” A smack lands on his sweaty shoulder and he’s laughing. “You’re one to talk, mister.” But Sylus isn’t letting you live it down that easily. “You made me this way… nothing but a greedy soul.” And just like that, you can feel him hardening again. He studies your expression, tear stained cheeks and flushed skin. So beautiful, even as your lips part in a little “o” as he fills you up.

Caleb

🪐You thought your libido was high… till Caleb finally stopped holding his feelings back

🪐He is on cloud nine when he finds out you’re just as horny as he is 24/7

🪐He’ll travel to and from Linkon if it means getting that pussy for the night. You have zero complaints either, other than maybe the fact that you wished he didn’t live so far

“You’re going to miss… miss…. Caleb!” His hips pound into you, every time you attempt to remind him about missing his train back to Skyhaven he just thrusts harder. “Such a weird way to say that I’m fucking you so damn good, I think a thank you is in order.” He’s nearly in your stomach and he has the audacity to be sassy. You give up on trying to remind him, as if you wouldn’t call off work the next day just to keep him tied down to your bed, balls deep like you had been so boldly begging him for over text a few hours earlier. You’re going to get a noise complaint, maybe even a notice from the city since you have your windows open. The room reeked of sex after all, you needed something to clear your fogged up heads.

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

Level up your writing skills in English - Dialogue Punctuation

A guide for those whose first language is not English (pro tips at the end)

Well, this is maybe the most that the new authors struggle with. As any other language, English also has its own rules for dialogues and I bet you could find them on the net as well, but if you want it short - here I am.

First things first, we use ‘’ and “” for dialogues in English and never ‘—‘ or ‘–‘ or spaces or just ‘start new line’. We need to indicate the people are speaking. ‘’ - for thoughts and “” - for speaking.

‘I was dancing with him.’ - I understand it’s in the character’s head.

“I was dancing with him.” - I understand the character says it out loud.

The next part is punctuation. I know, a lot of you maybe struggle with all these commas and no commas at the end, at the beginning, dialogue tags and stuff, but, believe me, it’s not as hard as it seems. So, what is important to remember is that we use commas with things that we do with our mouth or verbally and full stops with actions.

“It was quite interesting,” she said.

Look, comma is inside the “” and ‘said’ is something she does with her mouth or verbally.

“It was not so easy.” She moved closer to the table.

Look, full stops is inside the “” and ‘she’ is written in the capital, because ‘she moved closer to the table’ is not something she could do with her mouth or verbally.

Also, do not forget to start each character’s speaking from the new line, so it doesn’t look like a mess.

“I came here from the north.” He put his gloves on the table.

“Me too,” she agreed.

Look, 2 characters speaking, each of them having their own line. Also, notice that the first one is doing action, which is why there’s a full stop at the end, and the second one is agreeing - which is something we could do with our mouth or verbally and - which is why we have comma at the end.

The other thing to remember is that ‘…’ is not interrupting. It’s about the words slowly fading as the character speaks. If you want to show that the person was interrupted - use ‘—‘.

“I wasn’t sure whether to go…” Jake answered.

Look, there’s no comma or full stop at the end of “” and I understand that Jake’s voice becomes quieter and quieter as he speaks, showing that he’s really unsure of what to do next.

“I wasn’t sure wheth—“

“I will tell you!” she shouted.

Look, there’s no comma or full stop at the end of “” and I understand that the character is interrupted. Also, take a look at the second line: there’s an exclamation mark inside “”, but she is written with the small letter - yes, because shouted is something you do with your mouth or verbally.

One more thing: if your sentence finished with ! or ? there’s no need to add a full stop or comma at the end or after “”, ‘’.

That’s it for beginners. Practice with those above to sharpen your writing skills. Yes, you may think it’s too easy and want more, but believe me - I’m also using the rules above and rarely use the rules I’m gonna tell next in my own writing. Make small things look good first and then go to bigger things.

Well, my fellows, who are professionals in writing dialogues and the tips above were like a baby talk to you, fasten your seatbelts, you’re gonna find out some more tricks (I hope).

Okay, first things first, ‘’ and “” could be interchangeable. If you want to write thoughts in “” - you’re welcome, but don’t forget your choice for the rest of the story, so the readers are not messed up with what’s thought and what’s word:

“I was dreaming,” he thought.

And

‘I was dreaming,’ he thought.

Are both fine.

Next, using dialogue tags or actions before the words themselves:

Jake answered quietly, “What if I got it wrong?”

She pressed her hand to his chest. “It can’t be.”

It’s also okay. Just mind the punctuation: commas are for dialogue tags (mouth or verbally) and full stops for actions.

Depending on what you choose for your story, we use ‘’ inside “” and “” inside ‘’:

“I was surprised by ‘his’ behavior,” she stated.

If you have prolonged dialogue tag or action with dialogue tag, the tag should always come directly to the sentence (it’s easier to avoid any extra punctuation drama):

He answered quietly, smiling, “Of course.”

Julie laughed and asked, “What’s that?”

“I want this,” she replied, walking down the street.

There’s a difference when the words are interrupted by dialogue tag or action:

“We’d rather,” Jake said and lifted his arm, “win this auction.”

“I’ll never”—she pressed her finger to his chest—“let you do this!”

But personally I never use this rule, cause it’s just hard to punctuate and I believe that non-English readers may find it too hard to understand.

Well, that’s all for now, thanks for reading and I hope that was useful! <3

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

Ways I Show a Character Is Desperately Lonely (but Pretending They’re Totally Fine Being Alone)

Some characters don’t sob on park benches in the rain. No, they joke about “loving their own company” while talking to their plants like they’re co-workers.

- They talk to themselves. Constantly. Loudly. In public. ("Well, guess it’s just us again, grocery list!")

- They go out of their way to tell people how much they enjoy their solitude. ("Ugh, I love being alone, it’s so peaceful. So quiet. So… quiet. So why is the silence so loud??")

- They’re always texting but never texting anyone real. Drafts. Notes apps. A suspicious number of saved memes.

- They start forming weird parasocial relationships. Not just with celebrities. With the barista who once remembered their name. They cling to that like it was a proposal.

- They go to cafés, libraries, or parks not because they want to do anything, but because they’re just trying to exist near other people’s warmth like a sad social space heater.

- Their social media is curated to look effortlessly chill: sunsets, tea, quotes about “choosing peace” while they're silently spiraling in their cozy aesthetic.

- They get weirdly intense about small talk. You say “How are you?” and suddenly they’re trauma-dumping because it’s the first time someone asked and meant it.

[the-simp-in-the-chat]

The kitty and the frog ✨