Claire Keane

oozey mess

⁂
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
hello vonnie
Cosimo Galluzzi
Xuebing Du
occasionally subtle
Cosmic Funnies

Kaledo Art

Discoholic 🪩
cherry valley forever
tumblr dot com
$LAYYYTER

#extradirty
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver

roma★

titsay
Not today Justin

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@smalltowngrl86
Everyone.
Important announcement:
SOAP MACTAVISH IN A KILT 🗣🗣🗣
that is all.
thank you for coming.
you literally have to unironically listen to some shit like party rock anthem so you don’t kill yourself
filled up𓂃⋆ 𐙚 ̊.
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 was— 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 on— 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 open— 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, please—" 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 back— 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 you— 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 whine— 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 eyebrows— 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 high— 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 over— 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.....
If you ever wondered why they call tattoos and piercings "unprofessional" and "unsophisticated"
Source: Lainey Molnar
Simon was such a heavy sleeper, which honestly made no sense. With the kind of work he did, you would have thought he had developed insomnia years ago. It was something you secretly envied. The way he could fall asleep so effortlessly felt almost unfair. The second his head touched the pillow, he was gone.
Actually, he could sleep pretty much anywhere, and waking him up was another story. It usually took a few gentle nudges and a couple of soft kisses pressed against his jaw before those pretty, sleepy eyes finally blinked open. And he snored, too. Not loudly, just a low, rhythmic rumble against your ear. It secretly became your own little lullaby, a sound that meant you were safe, he was home, and the rest of the world could not reach you here.
When he slept, he was basically a human weighted blanket. He was so big you often felt like you disappeared between the sheets and his massive frame, but you did not mind. You loved the way his hands always knew exactly where to find you. An arm draped heavy across your waist, his face in your tits or tucked into the crook of your neck, his chest a solid wall of warmth against your back or legs tangled up with yours.
He had this subconscious reflex: even in his deepest sleep, if you shifted or shivered, his arm would instinctively tighten, pulling you flush against him as if his body was wired to protect you from the very air around you. Seeing the man who could stare down a threat without flinching melt into a puddle of softness just because you were near? That was a sight that never failed to make your belly swim.
You used to be a notoriously light sleeper, tossing and turning for hours. Nothing helped. You tried everything. Different pillows, white noise, herbal teas, sleep schedules. It always ended the same way: staring at the ceiling at some ungodly hour while everyone else seemed to be asleep.
That was until you started sleeping next to Simon.
The moment you curled up against his warmth, your eyes would begin to drift shut on their own. It felt like your body had finally found something it trusted enough to let its guard down around. There was a profound, quiet magic in his steady breathing, and the way his raspy voice would whisper "g'night, luvie" or "c'mere, sweetheart, it's time to sleep" right before he drifted off.
And the mornings? Those were the best. He would wake up slow, his eyes heavy and hazy, and before he even fully registered the daylight, he would seek out your hand, lacing his thick fingers through yours. He would pull you back down for lazy, lingering morning kisses that tasted so sweet you could melt right there on the spot.
Somehow, between his snoring, his death grip on your waist, and the way he would steal almost all your blanket which you hated the most, Simon had become the only thing in the world that could keep you grounded. He was your home, your warmth, and the best part of every single day.
Stray dog 💀🧼
As always, early access, WIPs and other goodies are on my Patreon!
the 141 aren’t stupid -- they wouldn’t carry a photo of you in their vest or helmet. no name written anywhere, nothing on their body that could potentially trace to a woman back home.
but they all carry something.
simon has a hair tie on his wrist. black, cheap, the kind you buy in packs of fifty and lose all over the damn flat. it sits under the cuff of his glove, biting into his skin, reminding him exactly why he needs to make it home. it always smells like your shampoo for a bit before it starts to smell like his own sweat, he finds himself a new one on the bathroom floor before each deployment.
price wears a watch. it’s not the watch that’s about you, really. it’s that he started setting the second time zone to match yours. he checks it more than he should, especially at night when he can’t sleep and it’s three a.m where he is and eight a.m where you are. he’ll think: ‘she’ll be making coffee, i wonder what she wore to bed’ and that’s the closest he lets himself get to mixing you with work.
kyle wears a bracelet. it’s thin braided yarn, the kind of thing you learned to make as a kid at camp. you made it on a slow sunday afternoon while he was half-asleep on your thigh. he said ‘oh, that’s sick, darling. ta!’, put it on and hasn’t taken it off since. it’s absolutely filthy these days. and when it starts to fray, he simply keeps re-knotting it, sometimes johnny has to help get it tight.
johnny carries a folded square of paper that’s gone so soft it feels like fabric, he keeps it safe in a zipped pocket on his kit. it’s a grocery list in your looping handwriting that you’d left him on the kitchen counter one morning. eggs, soy milk, the good butter, berries, your stupid crisps, wine (red). it’s got a small heart in the corner -- that’s the most worn bit because he brushes his thumb over it every night.
Prone bone with Simon Riley (18+)
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 you’re being fucked dumb.
“Fuckin’ slut. Wish you could see the way your pussy sucks me in,” 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 aren’t 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.
“P-please Si, please,” 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.
Happy start of summer and Pride Month! ✨🌈
jack reacher is a funny guy
Sometimes the house became almost painfully quiet when Simon was away. Not the good kind of quiet, the kind that settled softly over the room and let you breathe for a while. This was different. A strange, persistent silence that felt like something was missing from the walls themselves, like the whole place had forgotten how to sound like home.
You did your best to fill it.
Books, music, little cleaning spurts that turned into reorganizing entire shelves, and, most often lately, cooking. Cooking helped. It gave your hands something to do and your mind something to focus on. It was soothing, for the most part, until you made something you knew Simon would have loved, and there was no one there to tease, taste, or steal the first bite.
Still, tonight’s recipe had gone well. The kitchen smelled warm and rich, all garlic and herbs and something sweet lingering underneath. You stood there with a plate in one hand, ready to finally serve, when you heard it.
A shuffle. Then a low groan from the front door.
Your whole body went rigid.
Simon was not supposed to be back for another week. You were alone. No guests, no deliveries, no reason for anyone to be at the door at all.
Someone was breaking in. Shit.
You went cold all at once, every lecture Simon had ever given you on self defense flashing through your mind, but panic left no room for careful thinking. You grabbed the plate tighter, your knuckles whitening around it, and moved before your brain could catch up.
The lock rattled, the door bursting open and you swung.
The plate shattered spectacularly against the head of the very tall intruder.
For one breathtaking second, you stood frozen, half expecting a stranger, a threat, anything else.
Instead, a familiar grumble filled the doorway, "Fucking hell."
top 3 hobbies for young adults:
1. borrowing misery from future
2. carrying grief of the past
3. agonizing over the present
whenever i read gk i’m like “how the fuck did brad colbert become the ~iceman~” bc i mean he’s the cutest of them all he cries and feels bad a lot like
??? iceman????
#fuckin literally #he goes and makes friends with the children#and tells walt he likes him and he’s sorry he yelled at him#and sees poke sad and is like poke go feed babies babies are cute
#’the thing you have to remember about brad is that he’s actually a teenage girl’#ACTUAL QUOTE SAID BY BRAD’S SISTER TO EVAN WRIGHT
sorry to be a broken record every month but christ menstruation is a stupid concept. oooooh excuse me for not getting pregnant, why the fuck is there goo falling out of me about it? grow the fuck up and reabsorb that shit for nutrients.
I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF
This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.
Then bring me luck
the day after I posted this last time I was notified that I was selected for a really cool mentorship gig and got an unrelated glowing review at work
Hey Potato, cure my -ing cold so I can have a good time while away.
Here's the potato. Make what use of it you will. :)
God I need this so bad for my Midterm so please let this work again for me.
I could use some luck
in waiting on college acceptance letters. PLEASE GOLD POTATO.
I figure there's no harm in trying lol
Plz potato💔