Simon is impossibly deep inside of your warm, wet pussy, thrusting so hard you scoot up the bed as he knocks the air from the lungs while the headboard bangs against the wall. A pillow is strategically placed under your hips so every time he slams inside of you it hits your sweet spot, and your clit catches on the wet material without fail. Your nipples drag across the soft fabric beneath you, your hands clutching at the pillows in front of you, all while youāre being fucked dumb.
āFuckinā slut. Wish you could see the way your pussy sucks me in,ā he growls, his grip on you turning punishing, his face never faltering as he continues to drill into you from behind.
His fingers are tangled in your hair, yanking on it hard and keeping your head in place so your moans arenāt muffled against the mattress. His other hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make it more pleasurable as your choked sobs ring out around the room.
His thick, long cock slides through your walls as he molds your pussy to be perfect for him. The veins and ridges leave imprints the faster he thrusts, the deeper he reaches, the harder he grinds. Every knock to your cervix leaves you breathless, every brush against your sweet spot has pleasure shooting through your body, and the longer he abuses your poor pussy, the more you beg for it.
āP-please Si, please,ā you manage to say, gripping onto the sheets for dear life, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust but trying to run from it all at the same time.
Simon fucks you harder, the sound of your sweet voice begging for him enough to bring him to the brink of his orgasm, but not until you unravel on him for the umpteenth time tonight. His hand smacks down against your ass, your skin burning raw immediately, and he yanks your hair so hard that stars burst behind your eyelids.
āPlease what? Be a good girl and use your fuckinā words,ā he says through gritted teeth, biting back an obscene moan that wishes to fall from his swollen lips.
His fingers press into the delicate skin of your neck, your pulse fluttering around his thumb, and the adrenaline of knowing that youāre at his mercy makes your walls clamp down tight around him, earning you a hiss from the man behind you. When you donāt respond in what he deems as a timely manner, his hand strikes your ass again, harder this time, but somewhere in this moment he still feels guilty for it when his thumb brushes over the scorching skin to soothe you.
āMore, p-please Si,ā you continue to beg, completely consumed by the feeling of his cock inside you, bullying your insides with no pity.
His hand moves from your throat to the pillow in front of you as he steadies himself. Leaning over your back, his cock pressed against your cervix with the utmost amount of pressure, he positions himself to watch your face while he fucks into you like a rabid animal as if he has no compassion or love for the woman under him what-so-ever.
You know he would apologize after. Apologize for being rough, apologize for saying mean things, apologize for acting as if he has no respect for you, but it makes your pussy so fucking wet all you can do is beg for him to be meaner.
āYeah? Beg for it. Look at me and beg me to make you cum, beg me to make you feel good slut.ā
Your gaze lifts to his, and the way his pupils dilate from the sight of you so undone solely because of him has a groan rumbling out from the depths of his chest. Drool drips from your chin while your mouth hangs open ever so slightly. Your eyes are half-lidded and dazed with tears staining your cheeks, your lips swollen and pigmented, and he watches how every single time his cock thrusts until thereās no more space inside you the air from your lungs comes in short, ragged gasps that sound like music to his ears.
āMake me c-cum Si- f-fuck- make me f-feel good, p-please,ā you stutter, tripping over every other word, trying your hardest to form sentences coherent enough to beg for it like he asked.
He growls, deep and low, animalist almost, and he shoves your face into the pillow while spreading your cheeks with his other hand to watch your pussy swallow him whole. He fucks you, deep and hard and fast, it is almost too much. Your juices leak out around his cock, coating his length of your arousal, and he watches how tight you get the closer your orgasm gets.
āDo it,ā he says, the words coming out strained, ācum on my fucking dick then since you beg so pretty.ā
Every movement of his hips is hitting a spot inside of you that bursts into pleasure. Your cervix, your sweet spot, your nipples drag against the sheets until theyāre hard and sore, your clit grinding against the pillow beneath you until it all pushes you over the edge. Your body becomes rigid, your muscles draw taut, and your screaming sobs fill the room, and no other sounds can be heard.
āIām c-cumming-ā
āWho makes you feel this good? Who do you belong to,ā he asks, fucking you harder, fucking you through your orgasm, fucking you into overstimulation, waiting for the words to fall from your pretty, swollen lips before he allows himself the same release.
āYou! F-fuck itās always you Si,ā you whimper, your body twitching from your walls being rubbed raw, from your clit grinding against every last nerve, from your nipples peaking beyond belief.
With a few more thrusts and a guttural groan ripping from his throat, Simon buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed into the deepest parts of you. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, spurting out against your cervix with every twitch of his cock, coating your walls in all he has to give as the man behind you stills while he fills you to the brim. When nothing else will fit it leaks out around him, your cum mixing with his, making a mess between your thighs and spreading against the sheets.
āFuck,ā he groans, collapsing on top of you, trying his hardest to catch his breath.
His face is buried between your shoulder blades, his warm breath hitting your skin and sending shivers down your spine, his hands moving from their previous positions to caress up your sides as if asking for forgiveness through touch before asking verbally. He kisses against your spine, all the way down to your ass where he licks the raw handprint burning against your skin, and when he reaches your pussy, he licks up the mess before flipping you over with ease.
He hovers above you, wiping a stray tear before placing a feather light kiss to your lips. Admiring you, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way you give him the softest yet brightest smile he has ever seen, and he canāt help but cover your face in the same kisses.
āYouāre not a slut, and you never have to beg for meā¦,ā he mumbles in between kisses, and before he can keep rambling on you pull him down until your forehead is pressed against his.
āIf you say sorry⦠I swear Simon.ā
He laughs softly, āI know, I know. Iām sorry- shit- sorry. Fuck. Iāll just stop talking now, yeah?ā
Happy pride month specifically to folks on the asexual and aromantic spectrum who oftentimes feel isolated and left out of the conversation. You belong here as much as the rest of us and I hope that you are all loved in a way that is comforting to you.
Still curious which of my ancestors wronged some sort of witch in the motherland to bring about this bloodline curse. My current prime suspect is my Irish 6x great grandfather who was deported from Liverpool for being indigent and decided to move his whole family to Virginia during the Civil War instead of returning to Ireland. He definitely lived the cursed by a witch lifestyle. Fighting demons, by which I mean the British and his own terrible decisions. But actual demons too, possibly.
not to sound like a crazy sjw but parents putting little girls in frilly dresses/lavish clothes and telling them not to run, climb, play in dirt, etc lest they ruin their outfits or somebody look up their skirts is one of the most direct ways we as a society teach girls that they are only ornamental and cut their childhoods short
one of the most frustrating ways i've found you can be misunderstood is when people think you're horny about the things you're just weirdly fascinated by and weirdly fascinated by the things you're horny about
"omg is this like a fetish for you or something š š¤£" NOT EVERYTHING IS A FETISH!!! "you have such interesting hobbies" no uh . that one is a fetish actually.
simon riley, who acts on his urge to fuck you constantly, no matter what he was doing.
cw: mask play, breeding kink (i think), choking, degrading kink, praise kink, multiple orgasms.
simon riley was always craving to fuck you deep into the mattress, to fill you up with his cum until the sheets below you two were soaked through. it didn't matter what time of day it wasā whether he was deep in a mission with tf141, or if he was just reading a book, the thought was heavy on his mind.
when he bursted through the door, thick hands desperately tugging on his belt, you knew you were in for it. you hadn't missed the way his eyes darkened when they landed on you as you stood in the kitchen with just a tank top and his old boxers onā or the large tent in his straight blue jeans.
within seconds the brute was on you, not even taking off the skull-patterned balaclava before he was pounding into you. but he knew you enjoyed it. sometimes you even asked him to put it on before anything started.
strong hands bruised into the soft flesh of your hips as he pulled you back onto his thick cock that was splitting you openā soaked walls of your pussy clenching around him like a damn vice grip. his pupils, surrounded by beautiful brown irises, were blown wide as he fucked you absolutely dumb. the sight of his cum coating the backs of your reddened thighs had him moaning loud curses that blur in your ears.
"fuck, si-simon! s'too much, baby, pleaseā" all you could do was blabber out almost incoherent words, arm lazily extending backwards to stop him. as if that was going to work. simon quickly grabbed your dainty wrist in his large hand, pinning it to the small of your backā the motion angry and rough.
"fuckin' take it," the words came out in a breathless gruff as his free hand came forward, wrapping around your throat and squeeing lightly. "take m' go'damn dick like the slut ya are." the words did wonders to youā eyes rolling back as you came for about the fourth time. who was keeping track?
he continued with his mean and ungentle pace, hand slipping from your throat to under you to feel your stomach bulge each time he pushed all the way in. his flushed and overly sensitive tip brushed your cervix which allowed him to feel every ridge and squeeze deep inside your canal.
the obscene sound of wet skin clapping filled the otherwise silent room and it was like music to simon's ears. he wasn't sure whether to watch your plump ass ripple each time it hit against his hips or watch the way your cum mixed with his on his cock each time he pulled out. the thought of your insides being painted white with his seed made his mind go blank.
"gon' fill you up again swee'heart," the large man growled in your ear from above you and all you could do was whineā eyes squeezed shut as his thrusts somehow got harder. but you don't stop him, he knows you'll let him again and again until you're pregnant with six sets of twins. "you gon' be a good girl and take it f'me?"
"yes si," a little whimper left your mouth and that was all he needed.
simon came again with his mouth wide open, muffled moans coming from behind the balaclava. you gathered enough strength to crack you eyes open, wanting to see him cum. boy, was he a sight for sore eyes. his head was tipped back and the only form of facial expression you could see was his screwed eyebrowsā brown eyes squeezed closed tightly. the sight of the balaclava snug on his face made your pussy clench with need again.
his hand let go of their harsh grip on your wrist, instead moving to knead into your ass cheeks. curses and groans continue to spill as he comes down from his highā eyes now open and watching his white cum drip from your clenching hole.
"such a good girl f'me," simon praised gently, the palms of his hands spreading your ass to get a better view. "such a pre'ty mess we made m'love."
"kiss me," you murmured as he helped you turn overā roughness gone from him and replaced with the gentle man you knew and loved. his balaclava was quickly pulled off his head which revealed his rough face and messy blonde hair. your lips locked in a messy kiss, a content sigh leaving your lips.
thank god you were on the pill.
author's note: short lil fic for my first one! kinda nervous.....
The finnish language doesn't make a distinction between modern formal "mister", some forms of the title "master", and is also used in some contexts where the english language would say "lord". The guy who runs our local game store has a habit of referring to me and my boyfriend in this way - I don't know if that's what he does to all customers, or if it's just us two specifically - and while I perfectly understand that in context it's simply "gentlemen", it does have a mildly renaissance feel to it.
Like oh yes, we have returned once again to gracefully offer our patronage to your business. Today we are seeking to purchase more warhammer.
Imagine being the gays at a pride event in 2004 living their lives when someone grabs the microphone and announces to the room that Ronald Reagan was pronounced dead. Can you even imagine the hype, the celebration, the pure elation
it's extremely funny reading historical accounts of Spontaneous Human Combustion because it follows the normal historical trend of other 1800s paranormal phenomena where it stopped happening as much right around the time cameras were invented and stopped happening entirely when everyone started carrying mini cameras in their pockets, but unlike most others of its ilk, it was effectively replaced by this mysterious phenomena where alocoholics would spill liqour on themselves and then fall asleep smoking a cigarette and turn into a fireball. nobody knows if these two things are related
if you vote me for president i vow to make everything the ocean again. no more land only ocean. this will solve all of our problems and replace them with new, far more interesting problems