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skibasyndrome · 3 months ago

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🎃 Simon's kinktober fic masterpost 🍁

Soooo... since, despite all the factors slowing me down, I plan on pushing through with doing all the prompts I thought I should make a post to keep track of everything in one place

Day 1: Sit back and watch (I'm gonna dance for you) (masturbation & spit) “Have you never thought about it?” he asks, and Simon is about to chide him for avoiding a question with a follow-up-question, but Wille is pushing on.“I’m just curious,” he says, pointedly casual about it (Simon doesn’t buy it, Wille seldom feels ‘just’ anything, he’s a thinker, that man, sometimes to a fault). “I’ve never seen you do it.” And, as if he’s sensing the protest that’s about to come out of Simon’s mouth: “Without me fucking you, I mean.”

Day 2: Sharpen your teeth, sink into me (marks & biting) “Please,” is all he can muster, eyes squeezed shut against the threat of tears, of overwhelm, of having everything he tried to hold in come spilling out. Not now, he thinks, not yet. He needs more, needs Simon’s mouth and hands and body to coax the raw emotion out of him. Needs to feel it all before he can truly let go. Fingers digging into the skin of Simon’s back, into the straining muscles of his shoulder blades, he swallows again, forces his voice to form the words, broken fragments scattered for Simon to put back together. “Simon,” he breathes. ”Need you, please.”

Day 3: In silence, I'm yours (sound/staying quiet, hands & 69) “Shit,” he whispers, moves to pull away, but is stopped. Simon’s fingers quickly wrap around his wrist, keep it in place, keep it right there, right where it’s firmly pressed over Simon’s mouth. Wille just looks at his palm, then into Simon’s eyes. They’re wide, staring back up at Wille, glinting dangerously. And, for a moment, neither of them moves. It’s Simon who makes the first move, who now, after all, tugs Wille’s palm away from his face. His eyes are still intently boring into Wille’s and, god, Wille feels himself twitch inside of Simon at the sudden charge of the air around them. “Wanna try to make me?” Simon whispers, almost breathless now.

Day 4: Love the shape of your mouth (and the back of your head) (makeup, praise kink, oral sex, deepthroating and light dacryphilia) “You can’t keep saying that,” is all she says as she drops her head down and onto Simon’s stomach. He hears her let out a frustrated little noise into the fabric of his dress shirt, and he laughs, pointedly ignoring the way her proximity to his crotch is making him feel.She's laughing, too, that same carefree laugh that Simon’s been thinking about all evening. He puts a hand on the back of her head, stroking over her hair for a moment.“I mean it, though, Wille” he says, because he’s not going to let her deflect again. “You look stunning.”

Day 5: I've never met arms like yours (cockwarming & spooning) “You're hard,” Simon mumbles into Wille's forearm. Wille lets out a small laugh. “Yeah,” he admits apologetically, kissing the mole on the back of Simon's neck. A little begrudgingly, he removes his other arm from around Simon's middle to get it between them, so he can rearrange himself in his sweatpants. “Sorry.” But Simon's hand shoots up, keeping Wille's arm around him in place. “It's fine,” Simon says, then wiggles backwards a little until Wille is firmly lodged between Simon's body and the back of the couch. “Feels nice,” Simon hums and leans into him some more, pressing his ass against Wille’s erection.

Day 6: And the mirrors gon' fog tonight (mirror, hands, a little bit of praise) “Is this-,” Wille’s voice is hoarse, deep, sounds like he’s overcome with something that Simon can’t place. “Is this okay?” Simon only nods, meeting his eyes through the mirror, feeling a pang to his groin at the way he is forced to look up at him from this position. There’s a noticeable shift in Wille, his shoulders seem to get less tense, he seems to stop straining his neck quite as much. “Yeah?” is what Wille pushes out. Then, clearing his throat: “Do you like this?”

Day 7: One, two, three (Not only you and me) (threesome, first time [having a threesome], lapdance) And, so, Wille finds himself exactly where Nils promised he could relax for once, have a good time, calm down after all that stress of the past few months or maybe years. As it happens, that promised space of escapism has quickly shrunk down to a small seat, in the booth with Simon. Simon who was excited to find two fellow Swedes in a random Swiss town, who's in Verbier because his sister's friend invited the two of them to her family's holiday chalet, who's here, specifically, because he didn't want to intrude on girls’ night and because they don't have these kinds of parties in his hometown. And because he doesn’t really go to them in Stockholm, either, where he's currently studying at university. Simon who's got the prettiest head of curls Wille has ever seen, and the funniest laugh and whose lips look so pillowy and soft that - not that he'd admit it - it hit him like a punch to the gut to watch Nils kiss them on the dance floor a few minutes ago. Wille goes to Verbier with his friend Nils. They end up meeting Simon at a party.

Day 8: Body language say you wanna (semi-public sex, cruising, roleplay) “What’s your name anyways,” Wille mumbles, mouthing his way back up to the guy’s ear while he lets his hand reach out and wrap around his hard length. Wille wonders if he got him to this point or if the other guy had anything to do with it. Wille sincerely hopes this is all his doing. The man gasps, then lets out a short laugh. “Does it matter?” he asks, and Wille bites his earlobe. “You tell me,” Wille whispers back, overtaken by a new kind of fervor, now that he’s got the man in front of him like this, naked, needy, hard. He jerks his fist over him a couple times, reveling in the way his breathing picks up, in the way he bucks into his hand. “Do you want me to use it when I fuck you?” he adds, stepping closer, trying to open his own pants with one hand while applying more pressure to the other man’s cock.

Day 9: On the tip of my tongue, on the top of your thighs (1/2) (wax play, thighs, marks) “Are you okay? Does it still feel good?” He asks, instead of letting the emotion take over. He trails his fingers up along the outside of Wille’s thigh, relishing in the way he jumps a little. When he looks up again, he sees Wille nodding, head rustling the linen it’s resting on top of. Simon waits, drawing small circles into the outside of Wille’s thigh. He knows this can’t be easy, feels a little out of it himself and he’s not even the one lying there. After another moment, he hears Wille clear his throat. “So good,” he pushes out, breathless, a little hoarse, sounding stunningly overwhelmed. Warmth spreads inside of Simon’s chest.

Day 10: And if I searched a thousand miles I'd be dying to find (2/2) (intercrural sex, thighs, marks, oral sex) If that’s okay, Simon thinks and is a little too overrun with lust to laugh, but he definitely scoffs at the ridiculous notion that it wouldn’t be okay, that he’d be anything but absolutely fucking enthusiastic to fuck Wille any way he wants. And he should tell him, really, let him know that anything he could ever want they can talk about and Simon will be really fucking glad to try with him. Instead though, he postpones that, for later, after, when he’s not busy trying to keep a remnant of a rational thought in his mind at the view in front of him, of Wille lying, waiting for him, beautiful and breathing heavily and, fuck, grinding his hips against the mattress in tiny movements.

Day 11: My skin on your skin, again and again (frottage, cum play, fingers) So, technically, it would be more than a little unwise to have sex in these conditions. But Simon’s never been known to make smart choices, has always had a knack for impulsive decisions. So of course he’s perched on top of his friend now, of course he’s rutting his cock against Wille’s, skin gliding together easily with sweat and spit and whatever else. Of course he’s got his hand wrapped around both of them, trying to keep up a steady rhythm, trying to make this good for them, while Wille is being difficult in this stupidly perfect way of his.

Day 12: In the back of your car there's a big black mark (where I ripped the seat) (car sex, riding, a little breathplay/choking) They have their first little talk of the evening with Simon on one side of the buffet table, Wille on the other, sweet fucking irony, Wille thinks, remembering itchy wigs and poofy pants and the most beautiful song he’s heard in his life, to date. They chat, crack a joke here and there, laugh, even. Settle back into a pattern that feels so eerily familiar, so nostalgic, so unreal. Because how can it be like this, how can they go back to who they were those years ago, how can it feel so effortless? Wille spends the rest of the evening on a cloud, untethered, floating, feeling light and ungrounded. Feeling like, at once, everything he’s been missing is coming back to him, overwhelming, but in the best way. And he is surprised, yeah, but also not at all, when they first crash into each other in the hallway. Because it feels like this is what they’ve been tiptoeing around all evening, this is what his entire body knew had to happen.

Day 13: Find a brand new way of seeing (Your eyes forever glued to mine) (1/2) (edging, toys, blindfolds) Everything is dark, and yet Wille feels like the white-hot sparks shooting up his spine are streaking his vision. He lets out a pathetic sound when Simon speeds up the movement of his hand yet again, only to stop all at once. This is worse than Wille imagined, so much worse. And he loves it. Every single touch, from Simon’s palm on his cock to the fingertips he’s digging into Wille’s hips to hold him down, Wille feels it tenfold. It’s like Simon’s hand weighs heavier on him than usually, like his skin feels hotter against Wille’s sensitive one, like every sound Simon makes, every little huff of breath, every single tsk he makes when Wille involuntarily tries to thrust up into his grip, is amplified. Wille thinks he can hear Simon smile, that typical brief exhale through his nose, a quiet hum. The thought sends a shiver up his spine. There’s a thrill in not knowing, not being able to see. In having to wait for verbal confirmation that he’s doing it right. He hopes he’s being good for Simon, hopes he is looking pretty with the black silk tied around his head.

Prompts below the cut

Prompts by the events blog:

Water

Desk

uniform/clothes/accessories

Mirror

Neck

Fireplace

marks/spots/freckles

Food

sound/staying quiet

Threesome