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curled up thinking about riding simon lazily, but he’s so big and thick, and the stretch is so delicious that it has you whimpering, tears beading in the corner of your eyes until they finally drop in soft sweeps.

simon just laughs, and reaches forward to wipe them away. he croons, “always a cry baby, huh?”

you glare up at him, a retort building on the tip of your tongue, but he ruts up, humping into you, and your quip peters away into a mewl. you curl into yourself at the ravenous pleasure seeping from the base of your spine, as new bouts of tears begin to pour from your stinging eyes, and the sight you make — drunken and weepy — turns simon’s smile into something sharper; into something just a bite mean.

big beefy men with all their body hair (that they know you love so much) and blowjobs… god specifically blowjobs. he’s watching you struggle to take his length into your throat, gagging and spluttering when your nose buries into his pubes until you pull yourself off, gasping and messy. you nuzzle into his happy trail, rubbing your soft cheek against the coarse hair and he’s literally all heart-eyes for you… not to mention when you busy yourself with his heavy balls oh lawwwd.. (〃ω〃)

Hickies on the titties

Reblog if you agree

"It's hard to find girls who are into femdom irl"

Date eldest daughters. It's that simple, I promise

thinking about jing yuan somnophilia. it's normally him who lets his eyes fall closed when he finds a warm patch of sunlight and a chance to slip away from his work, but when he comes home very early before lunch one day (no matters needing his attention) and finds that you've taken the decision to have a very long lie-in and you're currently spread out across his bed, still in your nightgown with one thigh up high and the chiffon skirts all rucked up around your hips showing him a tantalising glimpse at the curve of your ass and the secret between your thighs . . . how is he supposed to resist?

he pads towards you as quiet as a big cat, humming low in the back of his throat in appreciation of the sight. you're so pretty with the sun dappling your peaceful sleeping face, the gown you chose to sleep in diaphonous and leaving nothing to the imagination. perhaps he even softly gathers your wrists in his (your face twitches and you whine in your sleep, but you allow him to gently manoeuvre you onto your back) and slowly, carefully and not too tightly, ties the red ribbon in his hair around them so that you can't squirm too much whilst he has his fun.

and of course, he cannot help but play a little game with himself as he does it all. it's far more satisfying than a game of starchess; the only one who can be conquered and plundered here is you. but he tells himself he will see how long he can keep you asleep as his big hands curve over your thighs, spread your legs. as his calloused fingers oh-so-softly brush over your slit, coaxing slick forward from you with only the barest feather-light touches. slips one finger inside of you and wins you moaning again, shifting, your cheeks heating up - but though your lashes flicker prettily, your eyes do not open.

when he softly rubs his hard cock all over the lips of your sex, brushing your clit, letting his precome mingle with your own arousal, you whimper his name and cant your hips up and your thighs reflexively tighten about his hips . . . and he knows putting it in you would wake you up, so all he can do is helplessly fuck into your thighs and the valley between the soft plump lips of your labia.

for the first time, he finds himself wanting to lose, if only so he could sheathe himself fully inside of you and give you the fucking you deserve.