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backup and reposting acc!

[kiyoomisluvr]

the angels are watching over you

ׂ*ೃ༄ welcome to my page

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ — HELLO ! IM JORDI / RILEYS, A NINETEEN YEAR OLD,WARREN KOLE OBSESSED AUTHOR FROM CO.DERRY, IRELAND!

✧˚ · . want to know more about me? ✧˚ · .

༊*·˚ what’s trending

>> ‘proper way.’

ghost,konig,reader

>> ‘crybaby’

ghost,reader

>> ‘teddybear’

ghost,reader

¡! ❞misc

—anon forms

—what i write

i do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform

© - simonrillleyyyysss

[kiyoomisluvr]

I have 2 words:

Simon + protective

Maybe they go to a bar, and some sleezy mf tries to fw reader, and Simon basically just kicks his ass and reader is like 😍😍😍

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ that would work on me, unfortunately

ugh, imagine…

you and simon headed out for drinks, little night out to soothe his stress from recent deployment—and just some alone time for you two to bond and catchup.

you notice it a few times, a man’s eyes darting over to you and simon, but think nothing of it. it’s not unusual, perhaps he’s just in a daze, full of alcohol and probably some sort of drug, you brush it off.

but when simon leaves you; he’s quick to slip over and grope your thigh, flashing a big, dirty smile as he sits on the creaky stool in the pub.

“come on, darlin’, gives’a show, will you?”

“no, sorry. i’m taken,”

but, after a few pushes and refusals, he grows annoyed. his hand reaches up for you hair—before he cries out at the sudden pain on his wrist, the large palm squishing it to bits.

“lay off.”

within seconds, the man’s nose was covered in blood and he was sobbing, haphazardly scurrying off with his risk between his legs and simon leant over to manoeuvre you off of the wood, kissing your cheek as you practically crooned over him.

“come on,” the man said gruffly, throwing a tenner onto the countertop.

once the two of you get home, he’s quick to help you change and you wash his bloody knuckles, mumbling praises to him—stroking his shivering cock as a reward for being such a caring boyfriend.

[kiyoomisluvr]

inbox open

[kiyoomisluvr]

hii!! first off,, your writing is so underrated for how eloquent and fun to read it is?? youre honestly one of my favourite authors on tumblr ^^

i wanted to rq simon finding out that his gf is ticklish- you can decide how :3

thank you!! have a nice day ♡ (also, can i be 🪷anon?)

- 🪷

thank you for ur req!

simon takes advantage of it, obviously. he didn’t mean to find out, he just did. it was accidental, but he’s so glad he found out. as someone who isn’t ticklish—he didn’t really understand it, how come it made everyone almost piss themselves?

- his hands wrapped around the curve of your waist, attempting to hoist you up into his arms as you wriggled and squealed, his long fingers curling around your torso, a quick cackle left you.

simon paused momentarily, slowly blinking before moving his fingers in a ‘piano’ like motion, watching you laugh loudly—instinctively kicking your legs out towards his abdomen.

“no, simon! tickles—“

“yeah? nvr’knew y’got the tickles, luv’..”

“i’m gonna pee—stop!”

- from then on, he teases you for it, or makes you giggle just to hear your pretty sounds. whenever the two of you get into a fight, you’ll be laying in bed, and slowly feel him begin to tickle your tummy, listening to ur whines and giggles.

“still mad?”

“i hate you, simon riley.

“love y’too.”

sometimes, during sex, he’ll burrow his head into your neck and press soft kisses, hips dragging against yours as you giggled quietly, his head retracting as he stared down at you with pursed lips.

“fuck, when y’ do that y’tighten.”

riley’s hands tickled your tummy, your laugh turned into a moan as he came inside you, panting.

[kiyoomisluvr]

hii!! first off,, your writing is so underrated for how eloquent and fun to read it is?? youre honestly one of my favourite authors on tumblr ^^

i wanted to rq simon finding out that his gf is ticklish- you can decide how :3

thank you!! have a nice day ♡ (also, can i be 🪷anon?)

- 🪷

thank you for ur req!

simon takes advantage of it, obviously. he didn’t mean to find out, he just did. it was accidental, but he’s so glad he found out. as someone who isn’t ticklish—he didn’t really understand it, how come it made everyone almost piss themselves?

- his hands wrapped around the curve of your waist, attempting to hoist you up into his arms as you wriggled and squealed, his long fingers curling around your torso, a quick cackle left you.

simon paused momentarily, slowly blinking before moving his fingers in a ‘piano’ like motion, watching you laugh loudly—instinctively kicking your legs out towards his abdomen.

“no, simon! tickles—“

“yeah? nvr’knew y’got the tickles, luv’..”

“i’m gonna pee—stop!”

- from then on, he teases you for it, or makes you giggle just to hear your pretty sounds. whenever the two of you get into a fight, you’ll be laying in bed, and slowly feel him begin to tickle your tummy, listening to ur whines and giggles.

“still mad?”

“i hate you, simon riley.

“love y’too.”

sometimes, during sex, he’ll burrow his head into your neck and press soft kisses, hips dragging against yours as you giggled quietly, his head retracting as he stared down at you with pursed lips.

“fuck, when y’ do that y’tighten.”

riley’s hands tickled your tummy, your laugh turned into a moan as he came inside you, panting.

[simons-angel]

something something simon riley helping you move around on a day where you’re in a lot of pain and making sure you have everything you need. pain killers? he’s got multiple different ones and will absolutely write down what time you take them to make sure you’re taking them at the proper times. back hurts? he’s already got lotion to give you a massage with. need to get up to do something? he’s helping you with every step. just tired and wanna cuddle? absolutely loves it. he gets to wrap his arms around you and hold you close. he gets to remind you quietly that you are his and he is your partner, best friend, protector, and possessive boyfriend <3

written from a chronically ill guy who’s having a flare up 🥲

[beekenobi]

Here’s some Red Dead Headcanons I posted to TikTok. :)

[onefr3ddieo]

[jal565]

[coquette-club]

[sai-int]

fucking shy!simon for the first time

shy!simon who overthinks it to death. it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he does,. he wants it so badly the thought of your sweet, tight cunt keeps him up at night—but he gets stuck in his own head. he’s big and oafish, maybe a little dumb in this department, rough around the edges, and this is you. he’s terrified of messing it up, of ruining something he doesn’t even know how to name.

shy!simon who (when you finally, FINALLY corner him in the mess and drag him back to your quarters) hesitates every time his hands skim over your skin, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. and when you don’t, when you lean into him instead, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

shy!simon who freezes the first time your tiny, warm hands slip under his shirt and skim over his bare skin. muscles tensing, breath catching, eyes squeezing shut like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. he’s shaking and he swears under his breath, cheeks burning, but he doesn’t stop you.

shy!simon who still asks, "you sure?" when his cock is lined up with your dripping hole, in this quiet, almost broken way, because some part of him still doesn’t believe this is real. and when you tell him—beg him "please just put it in", when you tug his chest flush to yours in instead of pushing him away, something in him finally gives.

shy!simon who starts off so damn careful, like he’s convinced he’ll hurt you if he’s not. you take him easily despite his girth because you just need him that badly, but despite that, he thrusts so slow and hesitant into you, like he’s waiting for some kind of sign to let go.

shy!simon who is absolutely weak for praise. tell him how good his cock feels , that you want him, that you've never been fucked this good before in your life (even though he's barely moving. he's just the perfect size) and he completely loses himself in you, lips letting loose as he babbles your name into the crooks of your neck, grip tightening around your waist and ass as he slobbers against your skin like he can't help it.

shy!simon who is completely gone, pussydrunk off you within minutes. whatever restraint he had disappears, replaced by something raw and aching. he’s still careful, still treating you like something worth holding onto, but now he’s just desperate with it, humping his cock into you until you're whining from overstimulation and until he cums deep inside your tummy with a shudder and wet eyelashes.

shy!simon who doesn’t say much after, but his hands never stop moving, tracing slow circles against your hips, fingers running through your hair. he might not be able to tell you how much he loves you yet, but the way his thumb brushes over your cheek says it all.

[kiyoomisluvr]

pulling simons hair?

uggghh…..

simon usually keeps his hair short. it’s easier to manage with his busy lifestyle, and also usually just mandatory for someone in his field, but there’s times he’d go for days on a mission, letting that little bit of hair lengthen and thicken.

and it’s so, so pretty when he comes back. scruffy stubble with messy blonde locks greeting you at the door as he kisses your cheeks and holds you awkwardly til’ he reaches the kitchen, rocking you side to side and holding you close—huffing out a breath as your hands tangle through his unkept locks.

nsfw below

his heads ducked between your thighs, keeping himself busy as your nails dig into his scalp, practically tugging thick tufts of his hair out with each precise movement, back arching up into the air as his lips pursed around your bud.

‘careful—gonna be fuckin’bald..’

and you can only let out a shaky laugh, which soon drowns out into a cry as his hands knead at the plush of his favourite thighs, nails pressing densely against the soft skin, feeling you comb back a dirty blonde strand.

‘love you, simon..’

he nods, tongue flattening against your heat as he dedicated himself to your pleasure.

you try to convince him not to chop it for a while, and he hesitantly gives in to your request and pleas.

[kiyoomisluvr]

hiii, I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but if you could do aftercare with Simon, I would really appreciate it!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)🩷🩷

simon’s selfless, this man would run to mercury onfoot if it meant making you feel better and happier!

big hands brushing over your cheeks as he pats you down with a damp towelette, mumbling into your cheek as he peppers kisses along your jaw; making sure your aching muscles weren’t too badly affected.

thumbs massaging gentle circles into your tightened calves as he speaks lowly, making sure you’re soothed.

‘did good, luv’.m’well proud.’

praise, praise, praise. even orders you a takeout as an apology for dumbing you down with his lust, making sure it’s the perfect tempature.

[kiyoomisluvr]

hi! just a post letting you all know the future of this blog

sometime soon, i may go on a hiatus. i’ve just fallen out of love with writing, it feels like a chore instead of something i can do and enjoy! and sadly, my blog has been dead for a long period of time, probably since september.

i still like cod, but i now have a life! i have a boyfriend, proper house and im getting my life together, of course ill not delete this blog—but might not post as much! for now, ill continue to do requests i receive and try my best to please,

if i do ever stop writing, id continue to reblog here and stay active, so i wouldn’t completely disappear!

i’ll keep you all updated, though <3

[kiyoomisluvr]

simon just can’t control himself sometimes.

how can he when you’re hiccuping beneath him with each hard thrust against your cunts wall, breasts rocking with the harsh movements creaking your bed, he had lost himself ages ago, as soon as he licked a long line along ur clit and needy hole, he was hooked.

his large hands wrapping around your throat to cut off your breathing wasn’t an act he’s decided, but his body has chosen to do in the sexuality of the moment.

lol bye i’m done here

[johnpriceslamb]

— 𝓕𝓔𝓑𝓡𝓤𝓐𝓡𝓨

Soft murmurings of gossip rises within the Van Der Linde gang about the close relationship of the enforcer and the ex-noble.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 : age gap . fem ! reader . afab ! reader . hyper feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than chars mentioned in story . reader is in early 20’s . arthur is in late 20’s - early 30’s . crybbie reader snifle . traditional gender stereotypes heavily mentioned . tis short chapter ^_____^

The sun casts is warm rays across the expanse of the campsite, shrouding the trees in a soft glow. The soft murmurs of the people amongst the camp blends with the rustling of leaves and a gentle breeze carries the scent of a strange concoction of multiple animal meat and vegetables boiled down into a stew.

It’s been a week since you’ve stayed with the Van Der Linde gang.

You heave a bucket load of laundry onto the curve of your hip before sauntering to the place with a thick line roped around two trees which conveniently is placed where sun shines the most. The luxury you experienced back in ‘Denis was something you wish you never missed but the ultimate reality comes to clunk you gently on the head. Never hardly, because you couldn’t ever do harsh. The epitome of softness, you are.

Your feet ache from the weeks load of walking and helping with chores but alas, you could not just sit down and sniffle about your incident involving the man who lead the carriage to Chicago. You ponder at the thought if your father was still waiting for you, almost bouncing on his feet once he tells the boy he found as a partner for you to get on his knee and serve that dainty little ring on your left hand.

You tighten your grip on the wet fabric your hands enclosed on before spreading out the clothing on the line and clipped the ends with it with two half-broken pegs.

You’d rather be cooped up in a gang filled with outlaws than be married off to a man who could not even wash himself properly. You remember begging Dutch a day ago or so on your knees, dirtying your sweet little dress in the process, hands clasped together tightly as you cried out for him to let you stay.

He had a soft spot for pretty girls, and an even more softer spot for girls who keened at him like a needy puppy.

His warm hand combs through your hair as you sniffled upon his lap, beady eyes coming to stare at him through glossy tears. Your long lashes fluttered at the slight irritation, and the leader of the gang watches those fat globes of tears run down your cherub-like cheek.

From then on, you’ve received the embarrassingly sweet title of ‘Princess’. Suited for you. A pretty noble. Spoiled.

You knew life which held privilege unlike most of the camp members here. You pitied the people who told stories about their experiences of living around the campfire, noting yourself to bring a handkerchief for the next campfire session. A sense of envy was evident around the girls you slept next to, understandably so. However, they loved you like a sister, teasingly taunting you with your sweetest nickname as you giggle shyly at their prodding.

You shake your head lightly, lower lip lightly poking out at your distracting thoughts before finishing up with the laundry.

A soft crunch of leaves under a pair of boots, matched with a soft jingle of spurs to pair up with the evident way the loyal enforcer of the gang creeps up to you with a lazy stance. Your smile is light as you turn yourself to face him.

“Hey, princess.” Him too? Thats… Great.

Your cheeks feel warm at that silly title, “Good morning, Arthur.”

He takes the empty basket from you and you feel your heart soften just a bit at his kind gesture. Each time you look at him, you feel a slight spark between you both.

“Grimshaw been keepin’ you busy?” He looks at the long line of clothes, before that slightly boyish grin etches on his mature face.

You sigh, fiddling with your delicate cuffs, “Undeniably so. The soles of my feet ache from the amount of chores I do.” Now you understand why the maids from your manor would lightly stretch their legs before working around the interior.

He looks at you with concern, “Y’alright? Y’need anythin’?”

You shake your head politely, walking beside him slowly. “No, but thank you for your service.”

He looks down at your petite figure. You barely reached his shoulder, “Hm. If y’need anythin’, just call f’ me.” A hand comes to gently guide the small part of your back to avoid any sticks or sharp edges on the forest grounds.

“I.. I appreciate your kindness a lot.”

And he looks at you again. A shy smile.

“Any time.”

You walk with him across camp to place the basket with the other woven stacked baskets. Then, he turns towards you with a sheepish expression.

“‘M uh, ‘m gonna be ridin’ with the guys in a few minutes. I’ll be goin’ to town..” He clears his throat, “Anythin’ you want me to get f’ you?” His eyes dart to the simple little necklace you wore. He looks at your face again quickly.

You feel your cheeks becoming warm again, before shyly looking around, “Oh! Um.. I-.. Please, don’t waste your money on me.”

“It ain’t wastin’ if its ‘bout you.” He states.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

You ponder. Perhaps a proper needle and thread to sow that stubborn little hole which keeps falling apart no matter the needle you used. It’s that damn thread you have to work with, which is probably older than Hosea himself.

“If you could just buy a small amount of thread for me, that would be lovely. If you can’t find any, I don’t mind at all.”

“Right got it. Jus’ some thread? Don—”

The bellowing voice of that lanky late teen whom you remembered his name was John comes huffing out. Wheat between his mouth, and a furrowed look on his scruffy long face, “Arthur! Stop talkin’ to your girlfriend ‘n come on! We’re all waitin’ for you.”

“Pipe down, Marston. Gimme a sec,” Arthur grumbles lowly, before his hands come to hold onto his heavy belt around his waist. You almost hiss at the sound of that new title coming out of his mouth, feeling your insides burning up from fluster.

“A-Alright. I’ll see you then?” He asks, almost shyly.

You wave at him as he backs up to leave, “Bye, please travel safely.”

He nods his head before sauntering off. You watch him saddle up on that beautiful mare of his that he proudly called Boadicea and rode off with the rest of the men to rob.. Or something. You’re not really sure what they do, turning a blind eye and kept on with the chores among the campsite.

A slight nudge is felt by your side, you yelped at the sudden appearances of the other girls when you turned your head around. Karen stands beside you with a slight smirk.

“What in the world was that?” Tilly pipes up, looking at you with a smile adorning her delicate features.

You look around and peer at a tree, glancing at the ground to see multiple footprints. With that in mind, you realised the three girls were all stalking you and Arthur’s conversation.

Stammering, you pat your hands down your dress and cross your arms in front of your chest, swaying side to side and looking away to avoid eye contact with any of them. They giggle at the fact that your cheeks turn into a darker colour, “I— What do you mean?”

“Bye, please travel safely~” Karen mimics you, her pitch much higher than before with a slight drawl of poshness added to it to make you even more flustered.

“Thats not funny!” You hiss at them, before they all erupt with laughter you’ve never been acquainted to. Warm, sweet, and most importantly..

Comforting.

Your nimble hands fiddle with the ends of your frilled-tipped dress. A week since you’ve been gone from home, and won’t return until then. A week. You’ve used up all of your delicate fabrics, picky about wearing the same clothing everyday. They may call you prissy and overly prim for it, but you would quite literally rather die than be cooped up in clothes which stick to your skin from sweat and body odour from not showering nor changing.

Thus, the frequent fussing of your laundry. You’ve ought to buy another dress or so with the pocket money you stored in one of the thin pockets of your dress. Until then, you’ll have to deal with the feeling of your palms becoming more wrinkly from the many times you’ve dipped it in water.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Marybeth sits quite close to you, a shy demeanour etched within her figure. Sheepish, almost.

“Hi, princess.” She greets you with a light smile.

You smile back, feeling comfortable around the woman. She shared similar thoughts with you upon any topic you sigh about, and the same adoration for romance novels.

“Hello, Marybeth. Can I help you with anything?” You greet back, delicate hands placed on your lap.

She lightens up immediately, softly stumbling on her words, “Oh! R-right, I was just wonderin’.. well.. er,”

“—Lemme start from the beginning.” She searches for something behind her, which was stored with the other girls stuff. She grabs a book, flipping to a few pages before showing you an illustrated picture of what seemed to be the main character in the novel she held onto.

“‘S called.. Lorna Doone by RD Blackmore! A story between two star-crossed lovers.. That woman,” She points to the picture with her thin finger, “Shes the love interest of this man here,” She flips to a page of the illustration of the man.

“The man’s father was a farmer who got murdered by this clan called the Doones. Actually, if I recall.. The Doones were actually nobles but turned to outlaws. ‘N guess what? He falls in love with her, who turns out to be in this clan!” She explains with excitement, holding the novel close to her chest with a dreamy sigh.

You flutter your precious lashes a few times, before giggling lightly at her enthusiasm, unconsciously telling her to keep going with her ramblings with a light nod.

She then adds, “Right, look.. I know this is a bit silly of me to ask but..” She shyly looks at you with an upturned smile, “Could y’ maybe.. put a bit of makeup on my face? Y’know, to match with her looks?” She gestures to the illustration of Lorna drawn onto the page.

“I reaaaally admire her, ‘n’.. You get the jist right?”

You light up. Of course, shes seen you put a light bit of makeup on your face sometimes just to feel a bit prettier and pass time. In fact, you were wearing a little bit right now!

“Hmm..” You look at the picture, before glancing back at her.

“I can do that.”

“Oh!” She cheers, pulling you into a tight hug, “Thank you, princess. You’re the best!”

You giggle again at her soft squeals, before hugging the girl back with the same intensity. You saunter away for a bit to grab your small pouch of makeup products. Once you come back, you perch yourself on your knees in front of her form and politely asks her to close her eyes.

She does so immediately, watching her lashes flutter down and meet her cheeks.

You grab your small tin of home-made cream, screwing the lid off and using your finger nail to whip a dollop and gently place it on her freckle-kissed skin with a sweet hum. Your fingers rub into her face until the cream disappears and forms a very thin barrier of blurring any pores on her face.

You peer at the illustration again for a bit. It wasn’t difficult to replicate. Lorna’s lips were so prettily placed with a red stained lipstick, and her cheeks blossom touched with blush.

Your fingers clasp onto another small container, this time filled with powder grounded from rice. You’ve heard that some cosmetic manufacturing stores sold powders with arsenic and lead which drastically reduced safety in women’s skin, but in a magazine you’ve read, some women used grounded up rice powder to hide any blemishes on their skin.

With the lightest dip of a cushion, you apply the fine-rice powder onto her skin.

She hums at the smell, peaking at your nimble hand which was encased with a little cushion, “Smells kinda nice.”

“Hm.. Kinda does,” You mumble in response, lightly smiling at her pretty complexion. Finally, you reach for a thin bottle of lipstick, rubbing the tip first to get rid of the previous use you had for it and applying it with another finger, before gently dapping it on her thin lips.

Finally, you move on to the final step. Blush!

Grabbing your last makeup product from your little pouch, you use the same cushion you used for your powder, but on the other side. You dip it into the pink substance before applying it on the apples of her cheeks.

Once you were finished and packed your supplies back into your little bag, you excitedly show her face with your little floral emblemed pocket mirror, “Tada!”

She fawns over herself, lightly touching her skin. Your little tinkering and handiworks has made her feelings for her beauty burst into stars of light.

“Not much of a difference, but I applied a bit more blush on your cheeks to emphasise it. At the end of the day, y’can just wash your face with some warm water ‘n’ a bar of clean soap.” You mention, before she nods.

“Thank you, princess! Why, I ought to show the other girls!” She happily smiles, before hitching her magenta skirt lightly and tittering off to find the other ladies her new look. Her excitement bounces off the lonesome camp, but it feels like it’s bustling with energy from the other women around. A much different place when the men were gone.

“Well I’ll be,” That southern drawl catches your attention as the man you were closest to amongst this group approaches from behind. You turn, smile drawn onto your demure features as you stand up from your spot and saunter closer.

“Looks like you ‘n Marybeth were having a good time.” He crosses his arms and relies on the soles of his feet to keep him standing, peering at you.

“When did you arrive?” You question, sizing him up and down a few times to see if he sustained any injuries.

“Just a few moments ago.” You didn’t even hear the sounds of Boadicea’s footsteps clacking on the rough grounds. Just how skilled was he when it came to horseback?

Then, he reaches to his pocket and grabs the thread you asked for. You lightly gasp and profusely thanked him.

Your hands enclasped around his and picked the string from his palm.

His heart flutters lightly at the quick touch, breath hitching in his chest as he takes a step back.

“I can finally sow that little pest of a hole in my dress now! Thank you, Arthur. I really appreciate it.”

He grunts, clearing his throat before looking away. “‘S all good.”

You place it in one of your pockets, “How can I repay you?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He gently chimes, the rim of his hat tipped lightly down. You puff your cheeks at his nonchalantness, trying to poke and prod at him to waver a bit on repaying him. But of course, he stood firm on his decision and doesn’t budge.

“..Please?” Cue your big beady eyes staring up at him.

“M-m.”

“…Why not.”

“Cuz it don’t matter. ‘S just string.”

“But.. it must’ve been a bit expensive.”

“Princess. ‘S string.”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“Arthur!” You whine lightly.

“Princess.” He hums in response, before placing his hand on your waist and guiding you to where food is served in a large pot.

“C’mon, lets eat.” Somehow, you forget everything he’s said because of how gently he treated you.

From the other side of camp…

Tilly, Marybeth with her newly applied makeup- smudged a bit from unconsciously itching her face, and a Karen watches the two. Javier— curiously grouping with them.

“…Chicas, what are we staring at?”

“Shhh. We’re lookin’ at plot development.”

[kiyoomisluvr]

ag smaoineamh ar Simon ag tógáil léitheoir beag aníos agus ag gnéasú léi san aer ( táim á scríobh seo gan ach 14 bliain de ranganna Gaeilge . níl a fhios agam an bhfuil ciall leis seo )

is breá liom seo!! go raibh maith agat, mo chroí <3 tá gaelige iontach maith agat!!

(translation-thinking of ghost/simon picking up little reader and having sex with her in the air)

-

the way his cock used your cunt was addictive, the rough, yet always pleasurable slams of his rip against your cervix was an addictive feeling, you’d find yourself needing rehab every time he’d fuck you.

his lips ghosted over your shoulder as he pushed you against the sheets, little mewls and moans falling from your parted, trembling lips, nails digging into his broad shoulders, scarred from age.

‘oh, simon!..’

‘it feels so fuckinnn’ good, doesn’it?”

you nodded, listening to him chuckle lowkey, and with a grunt, he hooked his arms under your thighs, making you straddle him in an awkward position, turning.

and within seconds, he was fucking up into you like a limbless doll; your orgasm finally bursting as you sobbed out, his thighs clenching as he continued to hold up your small frame and rut into you.

he finally pulled himself out, quickly stroking his veiny cock til’ strings of cum spurted along the carpet, placing you down on the bed with a kiss.