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The Bisexual Flag, its meaning and history!

The Bisexual flag (also know as the bi flag) was made in 1998 by Michael Page. Although most people assume the colors meaning to be, pink for liking girls, blue for liking boys, and purple for liking both, it's meaning is slightly different.

Pink: Attraction to the same sex/gender

Purple: Attraction to both sexs/genders

Blue: Attraction to the opposite sex/gender

I think it's incredibly beautiful that a bi man would purposefully choose the meaning of these colors like this. Most people would assume that a man would pick blue to mean attraction to the same genders instead of pink.

It's also important to note the purple stripe is smaller than the pink and blue stripes compared to most pride flags that have an equal amount of color on the flag. According to wiki (take this next bit with a grain of salt as i couldn’t find where this was said) Michael Page said, "The key to understanding the symbolism of the Bi Pride Flag is to know that the purple pixels of color blend unnoticeably into both the pink and blue, just as in the 'real world,' where bi people blend unnoticeably into both the gay/lesbian and straight communities."

Following the classic rainbow flag, the bi flag is the second oldest pride flag that we have. Page has stated that he created the bi flag to draw attention and increase visibility to the bisexual community not only to the straights but also to the lgbt community as a whole

It's his day today, let's celebrate!

HAPPY BI VISIBILITY DAY TO EVERY SINGLE BISEXUAL OUT THERE 💖💜💙

jack of no trades. master of fuck all

THEYRE LIKE A FAMILY OF DINOSaurs

pls i need a girl to fuck me right this second

John "even as the villain in a horror story I still love my wife" Price

He's obsessed with his pretty little prize and no one can sway his mind away from you. Even as a madman hellbent on destroying the hotel he still sits you down for dinner with his little boy and holds your thigh tight under the table to keep you from running, makes you smile at your son and kiss his cheek like everything is fine. He knows you won't try running again, not with the snowcat broken and the radio smashed. Not with your boots missing and your winter coat torn to shreds.

Stay in bed with him luvvie. Let him sink into you, let him feel the clench of your soft walls around his cock as he sinks his teeth into your neck. You're such a sweet thing, still murmuring to him about taking care of you, pleading with him not to fuck you quite so rough. He can't help it, can't help the want that drips from his teeth, that clenches deep in his stomach. He needs you. Needs you all the time.

You have to stay close to him, follow him as he does his maintenance around the hotel, so he can bend you over and fuck you in the boiler room, sit you on the kitchen counter and eat you out like he's starving, lay you on the couch in the bar and kiss you like you're his only salvation. If it wasn't for you and the boy he might've done something he'd regret, might have hurt someone. And you wouldn't want that, would you love?

No, so best to give the madman what he wants.

Love the idea of Ghost if he’s on an extended leave (rare) he lets himself get scruffy and just does his best to be a civilian, no shaving, no short haircuts to cover with the mask just him being some dude™️

no you’re completely right he just looks like any other blue collar dude with ratty clothes and a staring problem

Simon would see some mom fretting over price tags in the grocery store.

Watching your internal debate before you finally sigh, putting back the single-wick candle and the single sheet face mask in favor of the teddy your little one spotted.

He’d watch you smile at your little mini in the cart, the love as evident on your face as the bags are under your eyes. Also the ring missing from your finger.

He’d linger, trailing behind you as he checks off his own list, a single finger wiggling in a wave to the toddler facing him.

He makes it to the register first, his basket full. You get annoyed, you with your 10 items, waiting for him to finish up. Annoyance swapped out by surprise and sadness when you watch the items get rung up.

Among the basic household necessities is a tall, three-wick candle - your favorite scent. A tub of a proper clay mask, something you know would leave your skin feeling smooth and refreshed. A bottle of wine. Flowers. A book. The one you couldn’t help but run your fingers over the cover, a promise of some day ringing through your head.

You’re feeling a little bit sorry for yourself and a little bit grateful that at least someone out there is going to be surprised and spoiled by this handsome man. You wouldn’t have expected him to be the type just looking at him, but the gentle way he places the items in the paper bag, a slight smile on his face, you know he’s imagining the look of gratitude and joy when he gets to present this gift, to show them how much he cares.

You are, in fact, quite surprised when the man approaches you as you load your car, pushing the flowers into your hands before setting the rest of his bags in your trunk.

“There’s a number in there, call me next time you need a reminder.”

Still holing the flowers, still shocked and confused, you’d ask “a reminder of what?”

“That you matter too.”

stress relief inspired by the silly question I get asked whenever I tell people I don't drink alcohol pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader a/n: still figuring out this smut shit and wrote this in a haze so... enjoy? cw: nsfw, explicit smut, p in v sex, no real gendered terms but reader has vag+clit so do with that what you will <3, all lower case

“drink?” a scarred hand blocks your leftmost view. in it is a can of some shitty seltzer drink that's already dripping with condensation.

you shake your head, chin resting on your hand as you continue to watch the silent baseball game. phillies are down by four against the fucking cubs. what a fucking disgrace. 

“you sure? can always get you another flavor.” he places the drink on the counter next to you, a ring already forming on the wood.

you turn to him, meeting brown eyes, “not fond of alcohol. diet coke is more my vice. the carcinogens make it fun.” 

he snorts, taking a sip from his brown drink. you pull your eyes from him and turn them back to the screen, ready to watch your team continue to get dogged. 

“so how do you relieve stress then?” he’s on the stool next to you now. he’s so broad he eats up some of your personal space, more of it when he leans in anticipating your answer.

your head cocks in confusion, half of you still turned to the tv to see if the phillies will get their shit together. “sorry, what do you mean?”

he glances at the tv, trying to gauge what it is about this silly sport that has you so engaged. he shrugs, following the movements of the pitcher and the batter, “y’know, some of us throw back a drink or two to ease that tension. what do you do?”

you freeze for a moment and you’re thankful that you’re staring at the tv and not at kyle. you don’t think you could keep your poker face on if you were looking him in the eye. because, how exactly do you tell your friend that your favorite method of stress relief is to make yourself cum until you’re a sweaty, whiny, slick mess twitching on your bed. how do you even keep a straight face when that would be your first thought? especially when your friend looks as good as kyle does.

instead, you hyperfocus on the game. the movement of the ball, the pitching clock, the umpire’s hand signals, all of it to stop thinking about how nice it’d be for kyle to spread you out and fuck the tension out of your body. you lick your lips as you try to find an excuse or any words to steer the conversation in any other direction.

licking your lips is a mistake. it only makes you more aware of how quickly your mouth is filling with saliva, no matter how fast you swallow it all down. fucking hell. he just had to remind you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to take care of yourself. the stress of life and its shitty fucking responsibilities fucking up your routine. gotta get yourself out of this somehow.

you shrug nonchalantly, at least try to, taking a sip of the fruity virgin mixture in front of you. “nothing really. it kinda just, yknow, dissipates.”

he snorts, shaking his head at your response, “fucking bullshit. i’ve seen you so wound up you nearly kicked soap’s head through the wall. next day you walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.” he drums his fingers on the counter studying you, “too quick a turn for it to just, dissipate”

is he a fucking narc? what’s his fucking deal with all these questions? this has never come up before. why’s he so fucking interested in your stress relief methods all of a sudden?

what kyle fails to mention is that he heard you the night of your tiff with soap. that he shared a wall with you while you fucked yourself raw and the slick had dripped all the way down to your asshole and onto the bed. had to fucking bite his pillow while he fisted his cock at the sound of you cumming, a high-pitched whine before you bit your lip and rode out the orgasm with breathy gasps. 

he wanted to break down your door that night. dip his thick girthy length into your wet hole just to feel how slick you got after you came. wanted to pin you down, maybe get price in there to hold your legs to see how loud you got when he kept sucking on your clit after you came. see how you’d fight against him, beg him to stop because you’d never done this before. never had your clit feel so raw before. wanted to see if you’d bless him with that sweet creamy mess he’d been dreaming of for fucking months.

he came four times that night. cock raw and balls empty just at the sounds of you he got through the wall. you’d only cum three times, clearly too cautious to really let go and make a nice and proper mess of yourself. he’d told himself that was just something he’d have to rectify later

you clear your throat, watching the teams switch positions on the field, “dunno what to tell you man, yoga does wonders.”

kyle hums around the rim of his glass, eyes dropping to your legs, not missing the way your thighs press together. more than necessary to keep yourself comfortable on the stool. 

“must be some kind of crazy fucking yoga. gotta tell me the studio, instructor too”

your head whips around to kyle, eyebrows drawn tight together, “what?”

he shrugs, eyes never leaving the tv, “it just seems to help you out so much, i want to try it for myself.”

you sputter for a second, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, “kyle i-”

he leans in a little, “i promise i wont tell the rest of the boys. you’ll get to keep your yoga spot a secret. but i really want to try it out. share with me please?”

he’s fucking with you, right? he has to be. there’s no fucking way he’s actually interested in this. you don’t even know enough yoga spots in the area to come up with another lie to round out your story. you don’t even have enough time to flounder in the depths of your mind.

kyle hooks a foot around one of your legs, “cmon, please. i’m really trying to find alterna-”

“kyle!” you hiss, interrupting him. completely fed up with his insistence your voice drops, “fucking hell i was lying. i don’t fucking do yoga. i just… i can’t fucking tell you.”

his eyebrows knit together in mock confusion, “what do you mean? aren’t we friends?”

you lick your lips as you try to find the words. “some friends just dont share everything kyle.”

he scoffs, “fucking bullshit. you told all of us when you got that broad off in the alleyway behind buckey’s. practically told the whole bar.” 

“jesus christ, can you keep your voice fucking down!?”

“god i’m just saying if you can tell me that then you can-”

“for fucks sake,” you hiss out. you’re getting hot, and not the fun kind, the longer this conversation continues, “i make myself cum okay? over and over and over again until i’m fucking twitchy. until i cant think about or feel anything besides how good i fucking feel. fucking happy now?”

kyle’s grin is wide, his eyes have something swimming in there that you hadn’t noticed before. “yeah actually.”

there’s a pause as you let his words hang there, confusion evident in your face. what the fuck is going on.

“so,” he throws back the rest of his drink right as the cubs batter hits another ball into the stands, “you going to show me? told you i want to try your method out.”

somehow, it’s a blur despite not a drop of alcohol in your system, you end up underneath him. 

he uses the head of his cock to spread your puffy lips apart, groaning at the pool of wetness that appears. he swirls it with his cock, tapping around the clenching hole, “just giving it a kiss love. gotta be polite” 

his tongue pokes out of his mouth as he presses his thumb down right under the head pushing it into you. a low groan escapes him as he presses past the tight ring of muscle, head falling back as he thrusts shallowly into you. “fuck that’s good. can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me”

whatever response you had for him is wiped from your brain as he bottoms out into you. you groan simultaneously at the feeling. he’s panting trying to get accustomed to how fucking hot and tight you are around him. you’re wriggling, trying to put some distance to ease the feeling of being so fucking full. you don’t get very far. “fucking hell kyle!” you cry out as he drives his hips into you. he’s got you open wide under him, arms positioned so that you cant shut him out, forced to take the beating that his hips deliver.

“it’s stress relief,” he groans as he grinds his hips into your wet heat. your fingers digging into his shoulders at his movements, “supposed to be a little rough”

he grins, licking his lips before he gives you a particularly filthy thrust. you can’t help the ‘fuck me’ you cry out.

kyle licks a wide strip up your neck, teeth catching your chin before biting down and making you whine. “i’m trying to baby,” he whispers into your ear, groaning when you squeeze him at the sound of the petname. he’s panting into your ear again, “fuck baby,” another groan as you clench around him again, “you like it when i call you that?” he huffs a little, the cadence of his thrusts changing to be slower, deeper. “didn’t know you were a romantic love.”

you’re not. or at least you’ve not been in the past but you can’t help how you react with the way that kyle’s cock is scrambling the connection of your brain. fuck, you couldn’t think before when he was just using you as a little sleeve but now, with those slow deep thrusts, he’s turning your brain into liquid. you wouldn’t be surprised if it started leaking out of your ears.

it’s just been so fucking long since you’ve been properly fucked, you tell yourself. resigned to your toys and hands for more than two years. too busy and too easily annoyed to deal with the person that a nice warm cock came attached to. that’s all it is you tell yourself as kyle praises you and your body arches into him. you’re just raw, in more ways than one, that’s why it’s making such an impact on you.

“fuck, baby, are you getting wetter when i fuck you like this?” he rolls his hips again, you can’t help but whine. another low groan from him, “fuck you are. god you love it when i do it like this huh?” 

one of his hands lets go of your leg, finding your own and interlacing them. he holds your hand over your head, hips not even stuttering, “promise i’ll fuck you nice and lovely right now baby. let you get all nice and wet, all messy for me. then you’ll let me slut you out right? let me use this pussy like i want to? i just wanna see what you’ve been keeping from me. gotta let me have you more than just one way.”

your entire body tenses at that, eyes rolling a little at the sound of it. fuck you’re already near the edge and he’s talking about more. more of this nice thick cock plunging into the deepest part of you. kissing the spongy spots inside you until you’re cumming around him more than once. god is he trying to imitate a session? his cock your own toy for personal use? 

no. no, this session is for him. you’re his toy. a little sleeve for him to test out, to get a taste of what he’s been missing he said. you just get the delicious benefit of getting to cum on his cock until you’re leaving a nice frothy ring on the base of his cock. christ. this man is going to ruin your stress relief for you.

“cmon baby, give me what i want” then he’s pressing a small bullet vibrator right on your clit, groaning at the vibration against his pelvis. you cant help but squeal and try to wiggle away from him but he has you pinned. the thrashing doesn’t help, if anything it aides in getting the vibrations right on your aching clit. it’s not long before the war sensation over takes your body and your eyes roll back as you twitch around kyle’s cock. 

“fuck yeah,” he laughs airily as you keep cumming around him. fuck you must be squeezing him so tightly you can feel him, “there it is love. love seeing you like that.”

he presses a kiss to your jaw before pressing one to your lips. “love that its me doing this to you. gonna see how many you can give me before i cum in this sweet pussy okay? wanna see all the ways i can get you to cum. keeping such a sweet little thing from me love.”

all you can do is nod. he’ll be relieving your stress for sure.

Okay I know this trope has been done time and time again but it’s a fuckingggg classic okay? Okay.

Best friend Johnny who keeps a photo of you in his pocket so he can remind himself what he is fighting to get home to.

Best friend Johnny who’s face lights up as soon as he sees you waiting for him at the airport with one of them big signs saying Johnny on it. It looks like you spent a lot of time hand decorating it.

Best friend Johnny who doesn’t argue when you ask him to stay at your house his first night home, he simply smiles with a nod because why would he ever refuse you.

Best friend Johnny who already has some of his clothes in your drawers for whenever he stays over. Brought over a duffle bag full of some a while ago and just stared filling your drawers.

Best friend Johnny who snoops around after he gets out the shower to see if you’d gotten any new toys while he was away. (You had) he grins while inspecting the new one, not a vibrator this time. No this one was moulded like a real man, very detailed he noticed. He would never tell you how he held it next to his to see the size difference.

Best friend Johnny who grins at you when he comes out of your room freshly cleaned and in new clothes to find you in one of his shirts and just underwear, dancing to the ABBA songs you were playing through Alexa.

Best friend Johnny who dances with you just so he had an excuse to have his hands on you. And oh boy does he, his thick fingers running over your body. Hot breath on your neck as you both laugh.

Best friend Johnny who feels on cloud nine while he makes dinner with you, the domesticity of it all making him yearn for more. The way you’re both moving around each other, flowing and fitting in with each other perfectly.

Best friend Johnny who even though is eating the same thing as you, still tries to feed you with an “Op’n up fa me lass.” Spoon in hand resting softly against your lips waiting patiently for you to accept, “K’mon bonnie.”

Best friend Johnny whose face drops when you tell him all about the date you had been on with a complete and utter douchebag while he was away. You don’t notice the way he freezes at your words, you don’t see the fire behind his eyes.

Best friend Johnny who finally finds the courage within him to say you don’t need to date anyone. You have him. He’s yours, always have been bonnie.

Best friend Johnny who goes crazy when you finally let him touch you. Desperately laps at your pussy, clit swollen and aching as the Scot wraps his lips around it wanting nothing more than to show you how well he can take care of you. How quick he can make you cum all over his tongue.

Best friend Johnny who is the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. He’s all over you, he’s in your every thought, your every breath. You feel him in your throat when he slides his thick cock into your slick pussy. You’re dripping a mixture of cum and Johnny’s spit.

Best friend Johnny who’s so hot the way he’s desperate for it, pathetically desperate to slap his hips against your ass. The shlick shlick shlick sounds loud in the air with the way his heavy balls slap against your clit sending rolls of pleasure through you with each thrust. “Fuck lass, so pretty! Do ye ken what ye do to me? Dis wee cunt is addictive!”

Best friend Johnny who makes love to you well into the early hours of the morning. You’re a complete dishevelled mess by the time he’s done. Hickies anywhere his mouth could reach, hand marks on your hips, hair a mess, drool on your chin, throat dry and sore from screaming his name and your cunt dripping with his cum. But you fall asleep satisfied with a smile on your swollen lips.

Boyfriend Johnny who kisses you softly all over, whispering praises and I love yous into your skin as he uses a warm flannel to wipe away the sweat and cum from your body.

Boyfriend Johnny who makes you breakfast in bed, all your favourites and some pieces of fruit for healthiness. Who delivers it to you on your bamboo tray, an apron wrapped around him that says ‘I’m cute’ on the front. His naked arse out of full display.

Boyfriend Johnny that watches you eat with a smile on your face and happiness bubbling in his chest.

MOOD:

DERRY GIRLS (2018-2022) 3x4

The Bad Ending + help with the fallout

Hi everyone. I've sat in front of this computer trying to find a way to start this post but the words don't seem to come to me.

Last summer I finally mustered up the courage to open my home and my heart and adopted a 7-year-old kitty. She was named Almond and was the absolute sweetest, cuddliest cat that I had ever encountered. I fell in love with her and I like to think that she also fell in love with me too. She'd greet me at my door every day after work, sit and watch me while I cooked, curl up with me on the couch, and would even curl up right next to me while I slept.

Over the past year, we noticed that Almond's health started to decline and she was diagnosed with Chronic Kidney Disease last month. Her results showed a bleak prognosis but it looked like she had at least a year left.

Sadly that wasn't the case.

This weekend I had to take her to the pet hospital because she had stopped eating and drinking over the past week. She was hospitalized for two nights with the hopes that she would get better. Though her numbers improved, they were not improving to the point where she would be making a full recovery.

Her primary vet theorized that she might not have actually been 7 but a much older cat when she came in. She probably had had Kidney Disease long before I got her and I just managed to bring her home during her last year.

So she's back home and being pampered for her last few days.

I've had to make the difficult decision to put her to sleep sometime this week. It might be sooner, it might be later, but ultimately these are my last few days with her.

I don't really know what else to say besides the fact that I'm gutted. I love this little girl with all my heart. I was looking forward to spending so many more years with her and even taking her on adventures with me. But it just wasn't meant to be.

It's been a turbulent 72 hours of given hope and having it crushed but ultimately I'm glad that I can let her go without much pain.

The whole situation has been incredibly turbulent not just emotionally and financially. Between hospitalization, medication, and her vet visit, we’ve racked up about $5.3k in vet bills.

I’ve set up a fundraising goal over on my kofi to help get some funds to cover at least part of this bill. If you’re not able to donate for whatever reason please share this if possible. I’d greatly appreciate it.

Thank you again to all of you for your support. It means the world to me.

woke up sick at 5am this morning and since inspiration is not my friend lately i thought abt the fact that i havent touched the redraws since july soo i have my favorite ones as gifts

be careful wearing skirts around soap bc that man would shove his whole head under it just to smell you. if you're lucky he might even pull you somewhere private first. but probably not.

OHHHH my god.

hnfksnjfd i’m on love with pervert soap 🥺 nastiest hottest man on earth.

tw 18+, afab and fem reader, dubcon/noncon groping. use filtered content instead of just filtered tags as the former is more reliable.

he sees you walking around with a skirt on and maybe some thigh high stockings, thick thighs on display for him (yes. for him. doesn’t matter if you don’t even know him. it’s for him.) and he can’t even dream of keeping his hands to himself.

he grabs you by your waist and grabs you, digging his hands in with an almost bruising force to keep you still and in his grasp. he ducks his head under your skirt and rubs his nose along your clothed bush, huffing your scent like a rabid animal.

nudges his nose against your clothed clit too for good measure.

shoves his hand up under your skirt, cups your mound with all the cockiness and hunger of a mean, gross man. presses his fingers into your slit till there’s a wet spot forming. laughs when it takes hold, turning the fabric dark under his fingers and says, “aw, look at yer cunt! all wet and creamy, and ah haven’t even touched er under yer panties. thought ye didnae want it?”

shoves his fingers under the fabric and into your cunt, still ignoring your protests and just laughing at how wet you sound.

like a good neighbor

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

notes: 18+ mdni, prev posted on a deleted acc - edits made, pls like/reblog if you enjoy^^

It all starts innocuously enough: holding open doors, offering to carry groceries, exchanging pleasantries, normal neighborly things that devolve into a glorious mess because you can’t keep your horny brain in check. If anyone had told you a few months prior that you would be foaming at the mouth for an emotionally distant hunk of a military man any time he gave you a modicum of attention you probably would have informed them you weren’t that desperate.

The reality was much more terrifying. Simon Riley is a heavy presence in any space he occupies, being six-foot-something with a tendency to stare. Those shrouded eyes your undoing, making you weak and yearning. One too many episodes of prolonged eye contact has your fantasies running wild and your hands between your legs every night before you go to sleep. The man was a trained killer, could probably - no, definitely - snuff you out with his bare hands and yet you were so, so, so down bad for him.

Simon takes your appearance at his apartment door in his usual stoic stride, betraying nothing in his expression as he glances at the measuring cup in your hand. Your unconventional plan of seduction had been hatched in the half hour since you heard his weighty footsteps thundering in the hall.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any sugar, would you?” You give him a coquettish smile, looking up from between your lashes. You hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable rejection, the closure you need to put this maddening attraction to rest. Instead, Simon steps aside, waving you in with a gruff, “Help yourself.” And then you really stop breathing because you hadn’t planned this far ahead, wasn’t prepared to enter the dragon’s den.

His apartment is much like you had imagined: sparsely furnished and absent of personality. You follow him into the kitchen, fascinated gaze watching the muscles under his shirt flex with every step.

You haven’t even made it to the pantry before you are crowded against the counter and caged between burly arms. “That all you came for, eh?” Simon rasps into your ear, making you shiver. “Some sugar?” God, you swear you can feel his fucking voice in your clit. Your hand reaches up to twist into his shirt, a silent plea for more, anything he was willing to give you.

Simon pulls away and you can’t help the whimper of need that escapes you, a sound that dies in your throat as soon as he drops to his knees, hands skimming your thighs under your skirt. He pulls your legs apart, forcing you to brace yourself against the counter to keep from falling. His thumb presses insistently against your opening through fabric.

“Already so wet for me, love. Been gagging for it, yeah?” He teases, tugging aside your panties with a single finger, exposing you to his hungry gaze. Later, after you’ve come down from the haze of arousal, you’ll realize those words were a confession: Simon admitting he had picked apart the way you looked at him from the very beginning, had been waiting for you to make the first move.

But for now you’re lost in the sensation of Simon’s tongue gliding through your flesh, flattening against your bud, making your hips jerk. The way he devours you melts away your inhibitions, soon you’re keening loud enough to wake the dead, desperate fingers buried in his hair, keeping him right where you need him. Simon looks up at you with hooded eyes as you come undone, moaning against your cunt like he’s been starved for it. And maybe he has been, because he’s suddenly on his feet, manhandling you onto the kitchen counter and yanking your panties completely off, face completely wrecked with your slick all over his mouth and chin.

He pulls down his sweatpants just enough to free his aching cock and sack, the other hand hooks under your thigh. “This what you want, sweetheart?” He punches the words out while he slaps himself against your sopping cunt. “Don’t be shy, tell me,” he orders.

“Yesyesyes, please, Simon, I want to feel it, please give it to me,” you whimper, too far gone to care about how pathetic you sound. A tortured sound rumbles from Simon’s chest.

“Fuckin’ hell-” He pushes the head against your hole, hilting inside you in one smooth thrust, forcing the breath out of you. Simon grants you no reprieve, immediately pulling out and slamming back in. He sets a steady, brutal pace, using his large hands to pin your hips, allowing him to fuck you as he pleases. He’s balls deep every stroke, hitting that spot that has you clenching around him erratically. It’s a little too intense and you know you’ll never feel like this with anybody else - the dick is that good.

And Simon isn’t unaffected either - you didn’t think he would be the talkative type in bed but he’s been growling filthy nothings nonstop, how perfect you feel wrapped around him, the way your moans and shrieks rile him up, he wants to stay in your silken grasp forever. The praise has you crying around his cock, keening your neighbor’s name for the whole building. Simon’s dark eyes never leave your own, even when his face goes slack from the pleasure.

You scream when Simon shifts his stance, spreading his legs and bending at the knee, pounding deep into you, right against your cervix, again and again. “Fuck- gonna cum, please, wanna cum-”

A thick hand comes up, gently cupping your throat. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you.” His rhythm doesn’t falter, drilling you in short bursts that drive you over the edge, slick gushing out of you, dripping onto the counter and the floor.

Simon doesn’t falter, fucking you right through your orgasm. “Gettin’ close, love,” he breathes, bringing his torso down to grind into you at a new angle that has his happy trail brushing deliciously against your oversensitive clit. “Where do you want it?”

You lock your legs around his waist, digging your heels in to get your point across. You need to feel his cum in you, damn the consequences. Simon groans, low and tortured, driving in deep one, two, three more times before going stiff, cursing hoarsely as he empties himself inside of you. You gasp softly when he pulls out and spreads your slick thighs wide, watching his seed leak out of you. Embarrassed, you move to sit up but he stops you with a palm to the sternum.

“Easy there,” he chuffs. He scoops you up like you weigh nothing, carrying you off to his bedroom. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet, love - we’ve got all night.”

He does his little dancey dance

gemstone hello kittys

D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, the first indigenous actor nominated in any lead category, attends the 2024 Emmys with a red handprint over his mouth, the symbol for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW). September 15, 2024.