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batsplat · 4 months ago

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new casey podcast have you seen it

https://m.youtube.com/watch?si=ye8wNfrvaPDjtpDV&v=IuwZN6aP8sg&feature=youtu.be

(link to the podcast) yeah I did, cheers!

there's not that much 'new information' per se within this podcast, though there's a bunch of nice tidbits about teenage casey. what stood out to me is how the framing of his journey to becoming a racer is... well, it's kinda new? it's not exactly surprising, because you could get a lot of this stuff from reading between the lines in his autobiography. the question of 'is this your dream or your parents' dream' is a very common one with athletes, and it's often a thin line... but, y'know, this podcast interview in particular is quite a noticeable shift in how casey himself talks about this issue. it's a shift in how he portrays his 'dream' of becoming a professional rider back when he was formulating his autobiography, versus how he's answering questions in this episode. his autobiography isn't free from criticism of his parents - but casey is always stressing his own desire to race. so you do get stuff like this (from the autobiography):

At this point things were getting serious. Dad used to say, 'If you want to become World Champion you can't be that much better than local competition,' holding his finger and thumb an inch apart. 'You have to be this much better,' he'd say, holding his arms wide open. Dad confirms this feeling still today: 'I know it's a harsh way to look at things but that's the difference between a champion and the rest. Just look at the careers of Dani Pedrosa and Jorge Lorenzo. Dani had Alberto Puig and Jorge had his old man, both of them hard as nails. If you want to make it to the top I think it takes somebody with an unforgiving view on life to help get you there. So I said those things to Casey, particularly when we went to the UK, because to keep moving up a level he couldn't just be happy with winning a race. If he wasn't winning by a margin that represented his maximum performance then he wasn't showing people how much better he was than the rest.' There's no denying that Dani, Jorge and I became successful with that kind of upbringing and sometimes you probably do need it. As far as I'm concerned Alberto was nowhere near as tough on Dani as my dad was on me or Jorge's dad was on him. That kind of intensity and expectation puts a lot of extra pressure on a father-son relationship that isn't always healthy. We definitely had our moments and there were a few major blow-ups to come. But at the time, rightly or wrongly, it was proving to be a good system for us and I was eager to continue impressing my dad and others with my performances on the track.

(quick reminder, jorge's review of his father's style of parenting was describing him as "a kind of hitler")

but in general the emphasis is very much on how much casey enjoyed racing, on how single-minded casey was when it came to racing. he might have been isolated by his racing (again this is from the autobiography, in the context of discussing being bullied by kids in school until he got 'protection' from his dirt track friends):

School life was a whole lot better after that but I still hated it. All my real friends were from dirt-track; they were the only people I had anything in common with.

and he's talked about how other parents misinterpreted his shyness as him not actually wanting to race, which meant they were judging casey's parents as a result (autobiography):

Mum tells me that the other parents thought she and Dad were awful because I cried as I lined up on the start line. She remembers: 'I was putting his gloves on his hands and pushing his helmet over his head. The thing was, I knew Casey wasn't crying because he didn't want to ride or because he was scared. He just didn't like the attention of being stared at by all these people!'

but like. overall racing for him was still something he portrayed as a very positive aspect of his childhood. something he always clung onto, something that was his choice to pursue

so... let's play compare and contrast with some specific passages of the autobiography and this podcast, you decide for yourself. take this from his autobiography:

After I started winning more times than not, and it was obvious my passion for bikes wasn't wavering, Mum and Dad decided that seeking out sponsors could be a great idea to help offset some of the costs of travelling to meets and keeping the bikes in good order.

and here, in a longer excerpt about what a sickly child casey was, what his mother said (autobiography):

'They tested him for cystic fibrosis and he was on all kinds of medication; you name it, he was on it. But Casey still raced, we couldn't stop him.' I know I was sick but Mum was right, I wasn't going to let that stop me.

versus this from the podcast, when he's responding to a completely open question about how he got into riding:

To be honest, I don't know if I was allowed to have any other attraction to be honest. I think it was, you know, you're going to be a bike rider from when I was a very very young age - and I'm not the only one to think that. I think my parents have stated that enough times to certain people and you know I was sort of pushed in that direction. My elder sister who's six and a half years older than me, she actually raced a little bit of dirt bikes and dirt track before I was born and when I was very young, so it was sort of a natural progression to go and do a little bit more of that and I think because at the time road racing was a lot more similar to dirt track. That was our sort of way in.

this was one of the very first questions in the interview, it basically just consisted of asking casey how he got into biking in the first place - whether it had come through his family or whatever. casey chose to take the response in that direction... it's not an answer that is just about his own internal passion, how he loved riding the second he touched a bike, how he loved it throughout his childhood etc etc (which is how it's framed in the autobiography) - but instead he says he wasn't allowed to do anything else. he says that he was pushed in that direction, that his parents have openly said as much to others. that he feels vindicated in the belief he was never given another choice

let's play another round. here from the autobiography:

Mum and Dad used to stand at the side for hours on end watching me practise at different tracks. They'd sometimes clock laps with a stopwatch as I went round and round. Other parents couldn't see the point in taking it so seriously but they didn't realise it was what I wanted. I was having fun. Working out how to go faster was how I got my kicks and I couldn't stop until I had taken a tenth or two of a second off my best time on any day. If another kid came out onto the track with me I would be all over them, practising passing them in different ways and in different corners, but most of the time they avoided riding with me and I would be out there on my own, racing the clock.

and this (autobiography):

I enjoyed racing so much that even when I was at home riding on my own I would set up different track configurations to challenge myself. I'd find myself a rock here, a tree there, a gatepost over there and maybe move a branch and that would be my track.

versus here, in the podcast:

Q: And did you realise at the time that you were - not groomed, is not the word but well you were being groomed to be a professional motorcycle racer, or obviously that was your only one reference point, that was the norm. Did that just feel the norm or did you think actually this feels a bit intense or how did you feel about it? A: I think it's hard, it's not until I sort of reached my mid teens where I started to have a bit of a reality check on what I was actually doing. Before then, you know I was competitive. I'm not as competitive as people think, I'm a lot more competitive internally rather than externally versus other people. I always challenge myself to things, so all those younger years was just getting the job done that I was expected to do. I enjoyed winning, I loved it, but you know I enjoyed perfect laps, perfect races, as close as I could get to that and you know from a young age I always sort of challenged myself constantly to be better. So I didn't just win races, I tried to win them - you know, if I won races by five seconds in a [...] race I'd try and win, you know I'd try and get to double that by the end of the day if I could. So you know that always kept me sharp and it stopped me from being sort of, you know, complacent in the position I was at. And it wasn't until sort of you know 16, 17, 18 that reality kicked in. I'd had a couple years road racing in the UK and Spain, been rather successful and then you get to world championships and you know maybe an engineer that was sort of - didn't have your best interests at hear. And, you know, I nearly finished my career right there after my first year of world championships just because of the reality of how hard it was in comparison to everything else I'd experienced up to that point. And, you know, it was a real reality check for me and I think it was then that I started to - you know consider everything around me and consider how and why I got to the position that I was in and that's when the mind started to change a little bit and realise that you know I really was being groomed my whole life just to sort of be here and be put on a track and try and win. And, you know, that was my seemingly most of my existence.

in all the excerpts, he stresses how much he enjoys his perfect laps, how much he enjoys riding, how there is genuine passion there, how dedicated he is to this pursuit... but then in the podcast, he's adding something else - how he'd been groomed his whole life into that role of 'professional bike racer'. that it was only in his late teens (when he was in 125cc/250cc) where he had this moment of 'man I never really had a choice in all this'

and another round. here's him talking in the autobiography about how all the money he got through racing went back into racing - but it was fine because it was the only thing he cared about anyway:

I don't remember seeing any of the money I earned because it all went back into my racing, although I guess at the time that's all I really cared about anyway. I didn't know anything else. Mum and Dad always said to me: 'If you put in the effort, we'll put in the effort.'

and here in the autobiography on how he just wanted to ride all day:

I couldn't ride my bike all day, though, as much as I would have liked to.

and him talking in the autobiography about his parents encouraging him and his sister to 'chase their dreams':

Mum and Dad encouraged both Kelly and me to follow our passions and work hard to chase our dreams. That might sound strange when you are talking about a seven-year-old but I don't think you are never too young to know that if you want something you have to earn it.

versus this in the podcast:

Q: And I've never asked you this before, but did you want to? A: Um... I think I'd been convinced of a dream I suppose. You know, yes I loved riding bikes and you know I really did enjoy racing... but there was lots of other things that I - I really enjoyed as well but just never had the opportunity or never was allowed to do anything else, so... You know, motorbikes for our budget everything fortunately dirt track was probably the cheapest way that you could go motorbike racing. You could survive on very very little in dirt track and show your potential in other ways. You know, yes, having good bikes and good tyres and all that sort of thing made a difference but it wasn't the be all end all, you could always make a difference in other ways, so... I think it was, you know - the best thing we could have done, racing through that. Like I said I enjoyed it, it wasn't until late teens, early 20s where I sort of was like, I don't know if I would have been a bike racer had I actually had a choice.

was riding really all he cared about? or were there other things he was interested in, things he just never had the opportunity to pursue? things he wasn't allowed to pursue? from the autobiography, you get the sense that his parents always deliberately portrayed it as casey's dream, something he was expected to work hard for in order to be allowed to fulfil. in the podcast, casey says it was a dream he was 'convinced' of. without wanting to speak too much on the specifics of this parenting relationship we only have limited knowledge of, this kinda does all sound like athlete parent 101: getting it into their kids' heads that this is the dream of the child, not the parent, before holding it over them when they fail to perform when their parents have invested so so much in their child's success. casey's family was financially completely dependent on his racing results when they moved to the uk - he was fourteen at the time. he was painfully conscious of his parents' 'sacrifice' to make 'his dream' possible. can you imagine what kind of pressure that must be for a teenager?

to be clear, this isn't supposed to be a gotcha, I'm not trying to uncover contradictions between what casey said back then and what he's saying now. obviously, this is all very... thorny, complicated stuff, and casey has had to figure out for himself how he feels about it, how he feels about how his parents approached his upbringing. but it is worth pointing out that this isn't necessarily just a question of his feelings changing over time - if the internal timeline he provides in the podcast is correct, he was really having that realisation in his late teens, early 20s, so on the verge of joining the premier class. that is when he says he had the thought "I don't know if I would have been a bike racer had I actually had a choice"... which is a pretty major admission, you have to say, especially given how rough those premier class years often ended up being on him. but then that realisation would have already come years and years before he wrote his autobiography, it would've been something he carried with him for most of his career. given that, you do look at his autobiography and think that he did make the decision to frame things pretty differently back then, that he decided to exclude certain things from his narrative. if this really is already something that's been festering within him for years, if he does feel like he wants to be a bit more open about all of that now than back then... well, hopefully it shows he's been able to work through all of it a bit more in the intervening years

(this is somehow an even thornier topic than his relationship with parents, but relatedly there is a bit of a discrepancy between how bullish he is in his autobiography about how mentally unaffected he was by his results, versus how he's since opened up since then about his anxiety. again, I want to stress, this is not a gotcha, he's under no obligation to share this stuff with the world - especially given the amount of discourse during his career about his supposed 'mental weakness'. it is still important in understanding him, though, how he consciously decided to tell his own story in the autobiography and how he's somewhat changed his approach in the subsequent years)

this is the rest of his answer to that podcast question I relayed above:

But at the same time you know I felt that no matter what I would have done, I sort of have a - my mentality of self-punishment, you know, of never being good enough that always drove me to try and be better and any single thing that I did, I didn't like it when I wasn't not perfect. I don't believe in the word perfect but I really didn't enjoy when I wasn't, you know, in my own terms considered a good enough level at anything I did so I would always sort of try to get up as high as I could regardless of what for.

at which point hodgson says exactly what I was thinking and goes 'god what a line' about the "mentality of self-punishment" thing. it is one hell of a line!

what's really interesting about this podcast is how these two big themes of 'this wasn't my choice' and 'self-punishment' end up kinda being linked together when casey talks about how the motogp world reacted to him... so again I'm gonna quickly toss in a bit from the autobiography (where he's talking about casual motorcycling events he went to as a kid), because it does read similarly in how for him the joy and competitive aspects of riding are closely linked:

It was a competition but it wasn't highly competitive; it was just for fun, really. Of course, I didn't see it that way, though, and I had dirt and stones flying everywhere. I don't think anyone expected the park to be shredded like it was. When I was on my bike, if I wasn't competing to my maximum level then I wasn't having as much fun.

and back to the podcast:

And also because people truly didn't understand me, that I'm not there just to enjoy the racing. As we're explaining, before that, you know it was sort of a road paved for me... And so the results were all important, not the enjoyment of it. And then you cop the flak for everything you do. I'm also very self-punishing, so it was kind of a - just a lose lose lose and it was all very very heavy on myself, so... It, you know, it took me till my later years to realise I could take the pressure off myself a little bit and go look you've done all the work you've done everything you can, you got to be proud of what you've done, so... Not necessarily go out there and enjoy it, because I don't believe you should just be going out in a sport where you're paid as much as we are expect to get results and just - you know - oh I'm just going to go and have fun it's like... yeah, nah, if you're just going to go and have fun then you're not putting in the work. And that's when we see inconsistencies etc. So I was very very harsh on myself and so even when I won races, if I made mistakes or I wasn't happy with the way I rode, well then yeah I'm happy I won but there's work to do. There was more to get out of myself and so that's where I copped a lot of bad... um, let's say bad press because of those kind of things and then they sort of attack you even more because they didn't like the fact that you didn't celebrate these wins like they wanted you to they expect you to I suppose treat every victory like almost a championship and you know it's not that I expected these wins but I expected more of myself and therefore maybe I didn't celebrate them as much as you know other people do.

kind of brings together a lot of different things, doesn't it? this whole profession was a path that was chosen for him... which he links here to how the results were 'all important' for him, how it just couldn't ever be about enjoyment. he always punished himself for his mistakes, he was under constant pressure, which also affected how he communicated with the outside world... he was so committed to self-flagellation that he made it tough for himself to actually celebrate his victories, which in turn wasn't appreciated by the fans or the press. so on the one hand, casey's obviously still not particularly thrilled about how much of a hard time he was given over his particular approach to being a rider. but on the other hand, he's also describing how all of this can be traced back to how becoming a rider was never actually his 'choice'. he's detailed his perfectionism before, including in his autobiography, including in discussing his anxiety disorder more recently - but this is explicitly establishing that link between the pressure he'd felt during his childhood to how he'd been pushed into this direction to how he then had to perform. he couldn't afford to be anything less than perfect, so he wasn't, and at times he made his own life even tougher as a result of his own exacting standards. this just wasn't stuff he's said in such straightforward, explicit terms before... and now he is

my general thing with casey is that his reputation as a straight shooter or whatever means people aren't really paying enough attention to how he's telling his own story. like, I kinda feel the perception is 'oh he used to be more closed off because the media ragged on him but since retirement he's been able to tell it like it really is' or whatever. and I'm not saying that's necessarily wrong, but it's not quite as simple as that. because he's not a natural at dealing with the media, he's put a fair bit of thought into how to communicate better with them (which he does also say in the podcast), and he's explicitly acknowledged this is something he looked to valentino for in order to learn how to better handle. because casey has felt misunderstood for quite a long time, he's quite invested in selling his story in certain ways - and it's interesting how what he's chosen to reveal or emphasise or conceal or downplay has changed over time. which means there will be plenty of slight discrepancies that pop up over time that will be as revealing as anything he explicitly says... and it tells you something, what his own idea of what 'his story' is at any given time. this podcast isn't just interesting as a sort of, y'know, one to one, 'this is casey telling the truth' or whatever - it's reflecting where his mind is at currently, what he wants to share and in what way, and how that compares to his past outlook. the framing of his childhood was really something that popped out about this particular interview... it's not like it's exactly surprising that this is how he feels, but more that he decided to say all of this so openly. some pretty heavy stuff in there! hope the years really have helped him... man, I don't know. figure it all out, for himself. something like that

#hodgson is a far better interview than that bloody australian who keeps getting retired riders on his show #on a one man crusade against that youtube channel after the sete episode. listened to it at 1.5 speed but it was still horrendous #idk whether they screened potential q's but if not then hodgson followed up well on that initial casey response about not having a choice #icl I thought this would be a ducati puff piece but they do discuss self loathing for like half an hour #I do treat all athletes' parents with a base level of suspicion. guilty until proven innocent. don't trust any of them #ducati uk posted it on twitter right before I went grocery shopping so I was like 'oh well I'll put it on! that'll be nice!'#and it ended up kinda depressing me icl. super talented at the bike anything thing I get it but low key he should've done something else #I don't follow ducati uk on twitter... I did add them to my motogp list when I saw the podcast announcement. just to be clear #//#casey stoner #cs27 #batsplat responds #still don't entirely get what the concept for the podcast is. does he just chat to people related to ducati. I mean I liked it but #fifty minutes in they go 'yeah remember when you won a title with ducati. that was nice wasn't it'#going on the ducati podast complaining about how new tech has made racing worse like 'we're all trying to find the guy who did this'#heretic tag #brr brr

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screampied · 3 months ago

Text

❛ NEVER WANNA LOSE ME. ❜ t. fushiguro

☆ sum. for the hell of it, you let your roommate toji hit just once and he’s never been the same. what starts as a usual lazy smoke sesh turns into him wanting more than just to get high—he wants you.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, college au, toji & reader are in early twenties, vırgin toji, pússy drunk toji, mentions of pre-substance consumption, impact play, fıngering, squırting, praise, he finishes quick, dry humping, ōral (f! receiving), size kink, talking him through it, spıt.

he’s never had a girl like you in his life.

with toji—he doesn’t do women. well he does, but not in that literal sense. he puts up a front whenever around his boys. little do they know he doesn’t know the first thing about a woman. he has little to no game, he’s a fake. a loser. but all of that changes until he meets you. you’re his roommate and the only person he can really stand. to toji, you were someone he could ramble to, someone to get high with and make fun of cheesy romcoms together. . like now.

“you always insist we watch this shit,” he huffs, leaned back against the couch. he’s got his legs raised over the sofa as he bores his stoic eyes into the screen. squinting at the cheesy subtitles on display, he takes another puff. “dunno why y’er so scared of watchin�� alien. now that’s a movie.”

“toji that’s boring,” you murmur, snuggling up close to him. he never really minded, it was always like this. he’s got a broad arm thrown over the back edge of the sofa as you’re leaned up against him. the both of you were blitzed, feeling a wave of euphoria surge through the both of you. the closer you got to him, the more you smelled him. god, that cologne—he practically pours it all over his body and it’s always so strong. toji could feel your head rubbing up against his wrinkled tank top before he glances down at you. “. . . your taste in movies suck.”

as you trail off your words, it’s a deadly awkward pause between the two of you as he just stares deep into your eyes. you wonder why he’s so quiet all of a sudden, why he’s just got that blank expression. but toji cups your chin, using a bare thumb to swipe against the inner crevice of your mouth. “tch. messy girl.”

oh.

you blink thrice once his thumb swiftly moves against the corner of your lip. it’s a subtle moment that’s seems way more intimate than it should of.

the dorm room grows substantially quiet and the only sounds that could be heard were the main characters of the movies talking in the background.

you never leave your locked gaze on toji and he gently rubs a finger near your lip. “you had leftover ice cream on your lip,” he utters, and you see his eyes flicker toward your mouth. so pretty, he thinks to himself. the way they curve and twist as you switch facial expressions. he’s sitting up now, taking in your face and could almost feel you lean into his touch. almost. a lump gets caught in the throat before he clears his throat, glancing away. “i— uh, sorry. that was stupid.”

you look at toji and his body language is different from how it usually was. he’s got a downcast pout, slouching back against the leather made sofa. cute, he’s blushing. you notice the way both temples of his cheeks burn and heat up and you raise a brow, scooting up close toward him. “it wasn’t stupid,” you utter, grabbing the remote and turning it on mute. with his burly arms crossed, he slowly stares back at you with a perplexed look. “toji. do you wanna kiss me?”

“what?” he blurts out a bit louder than he intended. could you read his mind?

he felt himself get hotter and not just his cheeks.

toji looks into your eyes, biting his tongue once he realizes you probably caught him staring at your glossy plump lips. he did want to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you so bad—he just didn’t know how to initiate, he didn’t want to just flat out kiss you or anything. darkened brows of his tweak into a relaxed furrow before he sighs. “y- yeah,” he gruffly murmurs, the steady pulses of his heartbeat growing faster.

“you could have said so,” you tease, leaning up close and wrapping your arms around him. he’s glancing at you, both of you had half-lidded eyes, pupils dilating full of sparkles and lust. toji awkwardly sets his hands aside once you straddle yourself on his lap. the thin fabric of his basketball shorts tickle against the undersides of your thighs before you plop down.

it’s so quiet, you scrape a thumb behind his soft undercut before leaning up close.

toji’s mind was going crazy. he was about to kiss you. he was about to finally kiss you. but there was just one problem.

he didn’t know how.

just as your lips were on the brink of planting themselves onto his, he whispers against you.

“w- wait.”

you pause, glancing at him. “hm?”

“i— um,” he looks away, that same reddened tint painting over his face once more. it’s so cute, out of the few years on campus you’ve grown to know this guy, you don’t think you’ve seen him in such a state. an embarrassed state. jade green eyes flicker everywhere around the room but towards you and he sighs. “i’ve never . . kissed before.”

a smile marinates against your features as you stroke a thumb near the scar that runs down the right side of his lips. “oh,” you hum, and he almost glares at you but remembers you’re literally sitting on his lap. toji holds back a groan, the addicting friction of your body hovering over him makes him start to imagine lewd things. he couldn’t help it, and the taunting stare you gave him only made things worse. “that’s okay, just follow my lead,” and the two of you lock eyes again. toji gives you a subtle nod before feeling you drag his hands toward your hips. “just hold my hips ‘n close your eyes, it’s okay.”

he doesn’t know if it’s because of the fact that he’s stoned out of his mind but you’re just so pretty.

you were feeling the mild after effects too, your eyelids felt heavy the further you leaned into him. toji’s big open palms cling onto your waist as you finally close the distance, pressing your lips onto his.

from first contact, he tastes sweet.

his lashes flutter close as he lets you control, gently moving your tongue against his. it was cute how awkward he was, toji didn’t know what to do. you heard him groan the moment you playfully suck against his tongue. every few seconds, he’d hear the sounds wet smacking coming from each mouth—how a bit of saliva would start to dribble down the side of his lips.

fuck, he tilts his head back, parting his uneven lips a bit further for you.

toji tastes minty, his hands find themselves roaming lower down your body as you teasingly grind more against him. he grunts, feeling you continuously meet against his bricked up friend.

he was hard—you knew that. it was poking at you underneath your shorts. a smile stretches on your lips as you deepen the hot steamy kiss, hearing the faint sounds of teeth clashing. he’s so hot, literally and physically. toji feels like he was sweating bullets when he really wasn’t.

he’s had countless dreams of this, of you.

the two of you would always get high together and chill, binging countless movies until the two of you knocked out. but now, it was different. you were making out with each other. it took you by surprise that he’s never kissed anyone—you sort of thought otherwise, especially with how he acts around other girls. of course, that’s all you really see. but behind closed doors, perhaps your roommate’s more different than you thought.

the passionate kiss accelerates further the moment you feel toji’s big hands creep near your ass. his fingers tug near the protected fabric of your shorts, desperate for them to come off. your repetitive swaying against his lap was damn near torture. he groans, finally pulling away from your lips to watch those glossy strings depart from each mouth.

“fuck,” he grunts hoarsely, his eyes darting back toward your sheeny lips. he’s already had a taste of you and he wanted more.

toji holds you firmly in place before leaning into the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss near your collarbone. “i- i want more,” he grouses, the tint in his shorts only growing larger. you felt it, all of it. with the way your hips playfully rubbed against the loose clothing — you were only fueling the fire. toji’s voice got a bit lower with its pitch and it was attractive with how needy was.

like he was desperately craving for this moment to happen.

he really was though.

you could see the look in his eyes - he’s hungry.

call it a little crush or whatever but he’s had his eyes on you for a while. toji was horrible whenever it came to feelings, terrible.

he didn’t think much of it, the two of you were just roommates who’d occasionally get blitzed together every blue moon. unless it was something else.

“it’s okay,” your breath hitch as you feel his soft lips assault near your neck.

he was gentle, coating invisible markings that stick against your skin like glue. your head slowly leans back as he starts to softly suck against your skin, keen edges of teeth tenderly tickling against your exposed flesh.

you were so sweet, it just wasn’t fair.

toji’s hands remain attached to your hips before he makes you lie back. you land backward with a little cute oof, glancing up at him as your back lightly hits against the cushioned furniture. “someone’s getting eager.”

“s- shut up,” he kisses his teeth, taking a good view at your body. so pretty, two words that he’s gonna forever keep repeating to describe you. toji couldn’t believe its taken him this long to get to this point.

truth be told, he was pretty shy. but now that you’re all sprawled and laid back, something ignited in him. he slowly spreads your legs with one hand, using a thumb to tug against the flimsy string of your shorts. you watch him intently, growing quiet — the room only fills up with noises of his soft feral pants. he peeps the little anklet that wraps around your ankle before he starts to pull off your shorts. “m- may i?”

“go ‘head.” you murmur, smiling at how he stops untying your shorts just to hear your permission.

your sweet words telling him to go forward, it’s all he needed to continue. callused fingertips pull down your shorts all the way until he’s met with your laced panties. god, he’s feeling a lump get caught in his throat. the way your panties stick against your thighs, how gorgeous the lace looked decorating against your skin, he couldn’t stop staring. .

toji inches his head down, going between your thighs. his hair - it was unkempt, he outgrew his hair within these past few weeks. it was cute, a few black strands of his reach near his shoulders.

he was really slow,

he’s pacing himself because he wants to savor this moment and your beauty. but to be honest, he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. toji brings a awkward kiss toward the center part of your panties, watching you shudder. “mhm,” a low gruff comes out of him before he looks up at you. “was that good?”

“y- yeah, toji,” you swallow thickly, a hand of your own finding its way into his tangled sable tresses. he looks at you, finding your combing fingers digging through his scalp somewhat relaxing. he’s ogling at you like he’s waiting for you to say something else and you giggle. “right, you probably haven’t eaten a girl out either.”

“shut up,” he grimaces, bathing in his own cringe.

it’s almost adorable. it was adorable. he leans into your touch, staring at your slick dribbling pussy. he’s so close, you could almost peep his mouth watering. “just . . tell me what else ‘ta do, please.”

your face softens at his desperation. toji’s bottom lip pokes out a bit and you inhale, ruffling his hair a bit.

“okay, just start slow. ‘s no rush. start near my thighs ‘n give it a few kisses” and right at your words, he begins to give your thighs sweet individual kisses. he’s fast, you almost let off a moan before sitting up. “good, good, like that,” and his eyelashes close, making sure to give everywhere—even the secret secluded crevices of your thighs all types of attention. your skin was lukewarm, and each time it goes against his skin he only wants more. he hears your body fall back, the sofa screeching a wail from the sudden weight. “n- now um, kiss around here.”

toji pauses, watching as you spread yourself open for him with two fingers. with enticed driven eyes, he watches as you play with yourself to show him what to do next. your finger points near a soft pulsing area—your vulva, you wanted him to kiss right there. it’s shiny, drooling down with your own slick and he only imagined what it tasted like.

what you tasted like.

he doesn’t say anything—instead, he lets his mouth do the talking.

toji’s watched more than enough vulgar videos on pussy eating to know which exact methods to do.

but still, this was real life and nothing was exaggerated. your sweet whimpers and moans were very much real. he starts by kissing around and near your vulva - slow sloppy kisses that make your thighs twitch and your toes curl. he then begins to stimulate your clit with his tongue, swirling it around gently and you moan.

“fuuuck. . jus like that toji,” you breathe, digging your teeth into your lip.

he was already a quick learner, despite having no experience with practically anything.

with one trembling finger, you lift up his chin and he leans into your touch once more. “eyes up here baby,”

‘. . baby,’

his dick immediately twitches from that simple pet name. viridescent eyes of pure emerald stare into yours before you push him just a bit closer into your soddened cunt. “flatten out your tongue a bit. ‘s okay to spit on it a little.”

his ears perk up a bit at your words. “spit on it?”

“yeah,” you run a few more fingers in his hair, delving them into his soft scalp. “make it wet.”

“fine,” toji mumbles, and as his tongue’s moving upwards against your slobbering entrance. he gathers a decent wad of saliva before he spits right on your pussy. a slick ‘ptui’ sound slithers from his lips once he does so—you’re already wet but doing so, it gets you even wetter. a bit of cobwebby lustrous strands cling onto his lips as he watches his mess trickle down onto your folds. he groans, watching the cute pulse happen right between your legs.

so sloppy,

he adores the sloshing squelches your pussy makes at the simple gesture. toji’s never tasted anything so sweet before. “ugh, good. like that,” you moan. as you’re praising him, you then start to feel the quiver in your legs quicken. toji stretches his long tongue even further inside of you—pointing his tongue in a certain direction as his head leisurely sways itself side to side. as you’re telling him exactly how to eat you out, he starts to suck. you whine, feeling his pursing lips clamp around your twitching muscle. it’s so good,

his slurps were so nasty and he groans from your noises alone. as he’s eating you out—he can’t help but jerk his hips into the sofa, getting off to your pleasure. panting, you drag his head up by the hair so he could look at you again. “ ‘s okay, toji. y- you can use a finger or two also.”

“ ‘kay,” he grumps, and he feels your eyes boring into him. specially, you were mainly fixating on his hands. his veiny rough looking hands. you found yourself staring at toji’s hands a lot. they were so big, so wide, thick fat fingers. .

maybe you thought about having them wrapped around your neck, shoved down your throat, buried deep inside your-

your short fantasm and lewd thoughts get cut off the second he sinks a single digit inside—his middle finger. you whimper, slumping back against the sofa as his tongue still flicks against your cunt.

“fuuuck,” you chew on your words, your candied whines only grow more elongated as he seeps deeper inside of you. you take his finger in freely, it’s a perfect fit. with a brief ‘pop’ he’s inside and he feels you trying to clamp ‘n squeeze around his finger. toji’s kissing against your cunt again, shaping his crooked lips into ‘o’ before nibbling near your clit. “oh my goddd.” you gasp, feeling the pressure amongst you increase. his tongue was warm—but with the mixture of his finger, you started to feel your thigh haphazardly bounce. he was still lacking in some areas but you didn’t mind teaching him how to improve.

slowly, he brings another finger inside and now your cunt’s trying to squeeze down two of him. your brows curl up in rapture whilst his tongue happily roams all around you. he’s lapping up his saliva, slurping yours, and spitting right back on it all over again.

“so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your damp folds, causing vibrations just from his mouth. hot pants of breath aerate against your skin. you were getting close, your body started to get more and more unsteady. as your back arches, you yank on his hair a bit. “ow,” he looks up at you with a snarl, but he has a sheepish grin. with toji’s thick twin fingers plummeting in and out of you, he bites down near the edge of your pulled to the side panties. “am i doin’ good, princess?”

“y- yeah, ‘m gonna cum,” you whimper in a shaky tone, swiftly dragging his head back and forth.

toji’s plump glossed lips smear all around your cunt and you moan. he’s so messy and his chin being smothered with your slick. it’s running down, and he’s quite literally drowning in pussy.

your pussy.

the points of his ears twitch at your words though once he comes to the sheer realization—you were about to finish. as you’re getting closer, your grip against his hair tightens. “suck harder toji, ‘s okay. use your tongue, baby.”

with open ears and a open mouth, he listens, closing his eyes once more as his swollen lips latch around your entrance. you bite your lip, feeling his scar brush up against your cunt and it tickles.

so soaked, his fingers continue to insert in and out of you and you’re a nothing but a whiny mess.

your moans bounce through the thin walls of the spacey dorm before he kisses your clit. “make a mess on my mouth,” he almost pleads, a slight tremor in his voice. toji’s so into it that he doesn’t he notice he’s still humping the sofa. he’s humping the pillow propped directly underneath him to be exact. sloppy feral thrusts—his boner was almost painful and he needed more. he felt embarrassed, getting off to your pleasure. your sounds only made him grind harder though, and he groans once you’re literally tugging his head back and forth against you. “c’mon, give it pretty.”

his hoarse voice had you drenched even more, you feel the sharp pang of nirvana jolt through every artery and vessel stored inside your legs before it happens. you came, you’re teetering against his face as your hips buck into his mouth. he’s met with a sweet taste in his mouth.

a taste from you.

it lingers on his tongue as he merrily laps it up, drinking you until you’re all clean according to his mouth. your eyes were murky and doe eyed—you were holding in a breath you didn’t even know you were keeping in. as your chest deflates, you let off a loud ear shrilling climax and toji snickers. so cute, you were a mess. he was an ever bigger mess since his jaw was rightfully locked and sore, precious slick smoothly cascading down his smooth chin like it was a stream.

“fuck,” you huff out, wisping a few crumped fingers through his hair. your hold on his thin strands lessen as you lean back completely dumbfounded.

“did i do good?” toji utters in a raspy tone, lapping a few remnants of your honeyed juices near your outer folds. he slides his fingers out of you only to lick them clean, right before your very eyes.

panting, you nod. “yeah, y- yeah, you did good,” and you watch as shifts, closing the gap between you both. toji sits up from between your legs, and he starts the kiss this time.

your hooded eyes collapse for a moment, closing before you return the sloppy kiss. you moan, relishing at the obscene taste of yourself that now lives on his tongue. it’s sweet, your tongue curls its way around his before he sneaks a hand down between your thighs. you whimper in his mouth, feeling his broad hand give your cunt a big squeeze. you twitched right in his palm and he groans. your noises only made him want you ten times more.

with loud smacks of lips smacking against each other, you make your way on top of toji again. he’s looking at you—panting just like you were. his arched brows compress together as he grabs your hips in place. “you’re so hot,” he exhales, immediately regretting saying that out loud. he sees the slight bashful expression form on your face before you pull on his grey shorts. “y- y’er gonna ride me?”

“yeah,” you mutter, playing with the hem of his boxers. your thumb glissades against it, so soft. it sticks out above his shorts that were merely halfway on. “can i?”

toji nods. “uh huh,” and the fucking boner he had.

you felt it earlier but you knew he was suffering. each second you spent on his lap, the worse it became. it was up until you successfully removed his shorts and you started to grind your hips against his hardened bulge. “s- shit,” he curses, his head immediately throwing itself back. you’re playing with him—swaying up and down his procreated shaft. toji clenched his jaw, a hand of his squeezing the right cheek of your ass. “fuck, ‘s not fair. y’ said you were gonna ride me.”

“i am riding you, toji,” you hum, still a bit shaken up from your most recent orgasmic release. toji narrows his eyes at you and you toss your arms over his shoulders. “see?”

“tch. y’er bein’ unfair, princess.” he scowls at you.

toji’s got your hips in his hands as he’s lazily sat back. his hair was even more ruffled and messed up from your hands yanking and pulling on it. a few black strands run down his almond shaped eyes, shielding his vision a bit. as you proceed to move and jitter your hips around him, you then feel a sudden damp spot.

toji freezes - you freeze.

right near the poking center part of his boxers, it’s a spot where his boner lies that’s dampening up the piece of clothing rather quickly.

with furrowed brow, you glance down—pausing your jerking movements before eyeing toji. “toji. did you just . . . cum?”

suddenly, he grows mute, fuck.

he did—you figured he was sensitive but you didn’t think it was this much. his lips twitch and he’s trying to suppress a moan, it’s adorable. toji wasn’t so used to such contact, he thought he’d last a maybe one round or two, but he wasn’t even inside yet.

his jaw tightens and you spot his veins pulsing out through his skin. you stare at the now grey wet patch that sticks onto his half on boxers.

“oh, toji,” you softly smile, feeling him abruptly bury his face into your neck. he’s still groaning. you hold him, feeling him shiver a bit at your touch—you weren’t used to seeing this side to him, ever. “it’s okay,” you coo, and he’s practically whimpering into your neck. his gruff voice made you pulse and it only got louder. “it happens,” and you feel the stickiness start to bedaub against your fully exposed clit. with a timid expression, you tug in the hem of his boxers. “do you still wanna-”

“please,” he finally speaks again, his voice cracking.

toji’s eyes meets yours again and he’s just longing to feel you from the inside. despite his pussy drunken state, he was so desperate. your teasing only made him ten times more feral. cringing at his own self, his eye twitches. clearing his throat, he helps you pull down his boxers. “eh, i mean yeah. ride me.”

you block your tongue down your throat to refrain from giggling before his cock finally springs out.

it’s thick with a bunch of girth to support it. you can’t help but openly gawk a bit. you figured he’d be a packer but damn. you could literally equate his shaft to the size of a beer can. multiple veins ran down the sides and his base was even fatter than his actual size entirely—not to mention, it’s so pretty.

toji’s angry mushroom tip was glistening with sweltering fresh cum. he’s made quite the mess from that you could see already. he’s got a pink tip with an even more pink cockhead.

his heavy base, it’s swollen and had a tannish pigment color his entire dick. you lick your lips, preparing to align yourself and he grunts.

“s- slow baby,” he murmurs, gently burying his fingertips into both sides of your hips. you give him a nod, leaning up close to his face. you could hear the crack in his voice again before a husky groan rip out his throat. you’re so close to his face that you can’t help but pepper a few kisses near his crooked uneven lips. “fuck, fuck me.

as you’re lowering yourself down on his cock, you let off a moan - and so does he.

toji’s eyelids grow more heavy as he feels himself disappearing into your welcoming sloppy cunt. as toji’s barreling his fat dick inside, he squeezes your ass, feeling your walls swallow and suck him in entirely.

you were so soaked—so soaked, clamping down on him effortlessly and you were barely even moving. toji groans, finding his teeth tucking their ways into the left part of your neck as he holds you close.

“my god,” he hisses, continuing to bury his weighty cock into your slippery cunt.

you were so loud, especially right between your legs. every few seconds you’d be filling the room with wet squelches, pops and pops of pleasurable whines coming straight from your sweet cunt. it’s a feeling he’s never felt.

this felt a lot better than pathetically stroking himself off with the help of some off brand lotion as a substitute. he cringes at the thought because he was finally feeling the real thing. “fuck, ‘s fuckin’ warm, princess. you feel so good inside.”

“yeah?” you pant, and you’re almost all the way in before you grind your hips just a bit forward.

toji’s so thickly built that it takes your body a few seconds to acclimatize. you could feel the bulky tip of his cock extend straight through your spongey walls and it felt so good.

too good.

you could almost drool, that’s how good it felt—

he had staggering jaw-dropping inches that easily stretched you out like your cunt was simply elastic. it had you yearning for more. you lick near his chin where a few dripping droplets of slick run down before you kiss the curvature of his perfectly chiseled jaw. “ ‘m gonna start movin’ okay, toji?”

“okay.” he intakes a single breath, tracing the heart shaped parts of your ass with his fingers.

raspy pants bellow out from his vocal cords in such a rough raw way before he hears the squish.

your ass plops down on his lap and your hips start to create haste. toji grinds his teeth together the minute you start to rut further into him—his head slowly falling back. his eyes were barely open and yet he’s still finding the strength to look at you, look at your pretty face as you’re fucking him stupid.

his mouth slowly opens but no words come out. instead, sweet moans of your name leave his lips and it makes your ears twitch.

toji’s fully in and you feel every inch of him.

you’re bouncing on his dick until your ass was hitting near the hilt, the swollen base of his shaft felt so full and he’s chewing back sharp breaths that try to leave his packed full lungs. his high shortly leaves him with a slight pussy drunken grin and it’s so attractive—

the way his crimson glossed lips appeared all lopsided and droopy, twisting nto a sheepish smile. you spot two visible dimples on both sides of cheeks poking out from his lazy feral half-grin. you even found it hot how every so often he’d flick his tongue near the scar that slopes down the right side of his mouth.

“fuck me,” he repeats, using both hands to make you bounce harder.

skin against skin, both bodies press and squish against each other, and rocking in rhythm and lustful harmony. both of you felt so hot.

scorchingly hot, his heat radiates off of you and you lean into his warm.

it was so hot that you felt like you were gonna melt right on his lap—being turned into nothing but a puddled mess.

you whine, feeling his reddened tip start to thrash against your most sweetest spots.

thwack after abrupt thwack, it was tender at first but now it started to become more sloppy, more sloppy and rude. his mushroom tip swirls around your gripping, coating your insides while leaving blissful french kisses so good that your toes curl up again. “f- fuck, ‘s good, makin’ me feel—”

and his words get interrupted once you stop his sentence for another kiss. “mmph,” he jolts back, speedily returning the sultry embrace.

he could never get enough of your taste, that was for certain. your honed hips continue to buck forward into him as he’s fighting dominance for your tongue—you reel into him continuously as your thighs start to feel a twinge of convulsions.

toji’s balmy breath collides against yours as you slowly pry open your mouth, swapping strings of saliva and lapping up the few remnants of spit that dribble down past the cracks of his lips. “ngh, baby,” he whines between kisses, and his voice softens a bit. it’s not its usual cocky tone. it’s more affectionate,

more tender.

toji can’t keep his hands off of you. as he’s breathlessly speaking between kisses—a whisper of murmurs, he starts to spank your ass. smack after smack, you moan once his palm swats against you, encouraging your hips to go faster.

he quickly gets addicted to the reacting recoil. it was just the way your facial expressions twist from each smack and your little gasps at the brief stings that live near the centers of your rear.

“harder toji,” you whimper, digging your knees more into his thighs. with how fast you were bouncing on his cock, you were already in a trance. a trance you never wanted to get out of.

“tch,” he scoffs, giving your ass another spank. then one turns into two, then three.

he likes the way the fat of your ass collides against his palm. it’s enticing—he stares at you before biting near your chin. it’s more of a playful nibble. dark pools of eyes meet yours and you spot them through your peripherals. you moan at his touch before he feels you push him further back against the sofa. toji looks at you, falling back before you take the wheel. “fuck, gonna make me cum?”

and you don’t give him a reply. he prefers it that way. your hips end up speaking for you and as you rock against him quicker, the sofa cries out a plethora of squeals at the pressures of weight pounding onto it. “yeah you fuckin’ are,” he groans, pulling at the right cheek of your ass.

toji’s still very sensitive from before, but with the way you’re moving and how good your ass throws itself around him, he knew he was about to get ten times more sensitive. he just knew you were gonna milk him, ring him draw. fuck, the thought of being drained by your sweet cunt left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. not only that, but toji felt himself salivating the more he imagined himself finishing because of you.

he lowly grunts, munching down on his lip as the core muscles in his washboard abs tighten and flex underneath his tank top. your cunt constricts around his shaft every single time—ravaging your swollen needy walls became something he never wanted to stop doing.

you were so warm, his cock reached very specific areas that made you whimper out his name over and over on repeat as if it was some sort of exaggerated mantra.

“tojiiiii,” you whine, feelings of lust foiling at your brain. with the constant tingling sensations of his dick stretching through you—you gasp everytime, hearing the lewd shakiness linger underneath your voice. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum too.”

“c- cum with me, pretty girl,” he pants, clammy hands of his pawing at your waist.

your body and the way it moved against him in such maddened rhythm had him entirely dumbfounded. his brows arch as he leans back, adam’s apple still bobbing all in his throat. toji’s cock continues to jut his dick way into your drooling pussy before you let off a looooong three second mewl full of concluding elation.

it lasts a long time, the feeling you felt as you’re losing yourself on your roommate’s lap—yet this time, your eyes widen once your thighs clench together before collapsing.

you’re dexterously sucking him in well before your climax comes again—but as you’re trying to focus on your breathing, you feel yourself spraying all over his weighty cock. sappy sweet juices pour down his base as your mouth cutely forms into a circular shape of surprise.

“ffuckk,” you curse, your voice pitching as you pulse all around him. your chaste clit swerves against him as you’re finally coming undone. it’s so much, you left a pool of a mess right on his lap and he was just luxuriating in your sweet filth.

but before toji cums, his bottom lip quivers—beads of perspiration sliding down the sides of his face. “can i- can i finish inside?”

with a numb cock-drunken expression, you give him a nod. “y- yeah, go ahead,” and you look into his eyes, whispering into his ear. “c’mon toji, ‘s okay. give it to me. you can make a mess in me too.”

toji hoarsely groans at your words, holding onto you tight. “fuck, keep talkin’ to me,” he makes you bounce harder on his cock, his muscles clenching at such sensations. “think ‘m gonna cum jus from your words, princess.”

“good boy. f- fuck, toji cum in me,” you teasingly lick near his earlobe.

he grunts at your playfulness—his cock reaching its very limit. he’s so full, his jaw feels heavy before you kiss his cheek. “wan’ you to cum in me. don’t miss, baby. that’s it, h- hold my hips like that, mhm.”

toji holds back a whine as you’re preparing to milk him for all he’s got—he hiccups briefly before it spurts out all at once. it’s much more intense from before. as if on que, toji finished a few seconds later. but once he finishes again, this time it’s not as quick as last time.

he shoots into you raw and it’s literally as if his life changed right before his eyes.

toji’s feeling your hips momentarily swerve and stutter in swift arcs before he’s dumping such a sloppy goopy load into your pussy. slimy stringy ropes trickle into you all at once, shooting right into your empty womb. it’s so much of a load that some of it spills past your saturated folds and down his base.

“s- shit,” he looks down, glancing down at his bushy happy trail through his low hazed peripherals. you’re running a finger down the thin stretchy fabric of his tank top as you ride him, toying at his curly minuscule hairs with your fingertips.

toji came a lot. saying he came a lot was a understatement, he came a ton. such ropes oozed out of you and it was such a pretty sight. for sure—it a lot more than last time, it spills so much that it creates a creamy milky ring around his base. with the both of you now cumming in torrent, you can feel him shaking violently underneath you. the warmth of your walls was something he never knew he needed more.

toji’s mouth grows dry as he reclines back against the sofa. the movie was well over, black credits of dozens of random names blurred on the screen and all.

you both grow quiet. your head presses against his chest— feeling a few strands of chest hair tickle against your cheek. his heart was racing, and it was all because of you.

you didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to move, because then his cum would leak out of you. toji liked the feeling of having you plugged full, your thighs—specially near the crevices and insides were all sticky and wholly coated with his velvety hot spurts of cum.

“f- fuck,” you murmur in an almost whisper, feeling one of his hands slide back toward your ass. toji’s matching your irregular heaving pants before he feels you trying to get up. “toji, let’s—”

“stay,” he cuts you off, and he’s got the most neediest expression. his voice was whiny, he swallows—more breathy pants leaving from him before he buries his face in your chest. verdant droopy eyes give you a long stare before he hugs you, strong broad arms wrapping around you. “i- i want more,” he shivers in your embrace.

you sit up and you thought he was leaning in for a kiss—but instead, he licks your bottom lip. “i don’t wanna jus get high with you anymore, i just want you. i fuckin’ need you, girl,” and you can almost see hearts in his eyes. yeah, he was whipped.

toji cups your face, his voice shaky and he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your palm.

“please. one more round, baby. i love-” and he cuts himself off, his eyes widening before he backtracks, his pout growing. “i need you.”

8K notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 8 months ago

Text

it turned to smut in seconds, i cannot control my own hands, ok. 18+ (implication of breeding kink or something and simon's a jealous boy)

ex-husband simon who signed the divorce papers without a fight. it'd stung, you're not gonna lie, but it needed to be done and the fact that he didn't make a big fuss about it made things easier for you physically. (emotionally you were in shambles because did he not even want to try and fight for you?)

he comes over only on the weekends when he's on leave.

he's a good father to his boys. he takes them to their softball games when he can, buys them the ice cream and takes them toy shopping.

and then there's a sharp knock at your door on a wednesday afternoon.

"simon?"

he walks in like he owns the place, which technically he does- even pays the mortgage because there's no way you would be able to afford living here with your own measly income.

"what's this the boys are tellin' me 'bout a man bein' in here?" his voice is calm, steady. but you know simon better than you know yourself, and he's furious.

"i- i'm not sure-" he swipes his hand in the air and your mouth clicks shut.

"don't lie t'me, poppet, or i'll be findin' him myself an' you really don't want tha'."

what man? there hasn't been any since the divorce! you're digging through your memories, scrambling to find what the hell he's talking about when-

"oh! it's the plumber!" you take steadying breath. "i called a plumber on sunday. i needed the kitchen sink fixed."

his dark eyes are piercing, so sharp they could cut. simon's always been a walking lie detector, and it's unnerving to be on the opposite end of that analyzing stare.

he nods imperceptibly, then flicks his gaze to behind you, over your head. "show me."

you scoff indignantly. "show you what? the bloody sink?"

simon wordlessly heads to the kitchen and his knees pop as he kneels-

he's actually checking the fucking sink.

with a grunt, he leans his head into the cabinet and twist awkwardly which is no doubt causing a familiar pain to flare up in his lower back. you can't help but wince in sympathy.

lo and behold, there's a shiny, white elbow in the middle of the rest of the dirty, scratched pipe.

he hums, and rises to his feet, closing the cabinet with his leg.

simon approaches you slowly, fingertips touching the kitchen island as he rounds it. "palms flat on the counter, sweetheart."

oh. oh you know exactly what that means, and your pussy throbs almost in reflex. months without his touch and your body still responds the same.

your protest already at the tip of your tongue, almost involuntarily because principles, but he sees right through you, as he's always done.

"jus' a reward for all o' your hard work. takin' care o' the boys is a stressful job all on its own." his worn hand cups the underside of your jaw tenderly. "aren't i always good t'ya?"

your exhales are weak, just like your resolve. "okay."

simon's eyes glint with satisfaction as he lifts his hand, index pointing upwards and twirls it in a slow, deliberate motion.

your palms are flat on the counter when he curls his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and knickers, tugging them downward.

they're flat on the counter when he lowers himself to his knees and taps the inside of your foot, indicating you to widen your stance.

they're curled into fists when his breath puffs against your slick cunt and his warm tongue slides through your folds, drawing lazy circles around your bud. a tingle of arousal shoots up your spine, his mouth sparking a fire right under your navel.

they're reaching for simon, nails sinking into the delicate skin of his wrist as your back bows when you come on his tongue, vision spotted with black, blurry dots and white hot ecstasy coursing through your veins.

your hands are now crossed at the base of your spine, your cheek pressing into the cool kitchen counter as he bends you over it.

"15 minutes before the boys are home from school. tha's plenty o'time, yeah?"

a rhetorical, if you've ever heard one.

your knuckles stain white as you clench your fists at the heavy, hot weight of his manhood stretching your walls to take him in, a sweet burn that you've always loved. he's gentle but sure, bottoming out in one smooth stroke that pushes the air out of your lungs. the sibilant hiss simon lets out is never fails to elicit a whimper out of you.

"fuck," he groans. "i could stay inside this pretty pussy forever."

and the dirty talk. how much you've missed it.

"would you like tha', pet? be inside of ya til you don't know where i end and you begin?"

a garbled mhm slips past your lips. your head already empty at just the sensation of being so unbearably full that it feels like you're tearing at the seams.

"another time, then, since the kids'll be home soon."

he begins to move, shallow but firm thrusts that drag his cock along your nerves deliciously- a sure fire way of getting you to climax around him in minutes.

your walls begin to squeeze down as the knot in your stomach tightens, and he lets go of your wrists, looping an arm around your waist and straightens you- his broad chest to your much smaller back.

his clever fingers wind downwards, and rub precise, little circles on your slippery clit, and it's all too much, you're hurtling toward the precipice at neck break speed- "god, simon, please-"

his pace never falters, not his hips nor his fingers as your moans begin to rise in pitch. "i'll get ya there, love."

he does, he gets you to your highest peak- blindingly intense- one that chokes the very breath out of you and slackens your knees. "i've got ya."

there's no strength left in you to brace for the spine-jarring thrusts he gives after, the only thing keeping you from sprawling forward is the arm that's looped around you as he pulls you to him.

"on anything?" he rumbles.

your ears ring at that because he can't possibly- your head shakes unbidden.

"good."

the last four thrusts are heavy, backed by his weight, and he smothers a loud groan into the junction of your shoulder as he finishes inside of you- thick, viscous cum filling you until it begins to drip and fall to the floor with an audible plop.

he presses tender little kisses to your sweaty shoulder and nips the side of your neck. "just in time."

the clock on the stove says 5 minutes before the bus gets there.

he helps you redress, chuckling under his breath when you won't look him in the eye. "i'll get the kids, go get cleaned up."

the knot in your chest loosens when you hear the boys' laughter at seeing their father on the driveway. it loosens when simon picks both of them up, one in each arm, and glances up at you as you look down at them from the window.

heat licks up your cheeks when he gives you a smarmy little grin.

idiot.

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