SO Real For That Post About Bare Chest Pieces. All Medic Chests Are Winners In My Book, I Want To Say

glad to see demoman and his partner enjoy themselves but the 10 page long cockwarming scene was a bit unnecessary ngl

[pillowfort] [twitter]

🤨

need to be condescendingly saying “ohhhh i knowwww, sweetheart” while i add another finger and kiss your neck

yea okay angry sex this, jealous sex that, but what abt giggly sex. what about the excitement and the pure joy in that. where he’s on top of you and kissing you and but it’s difficult for your lips to connect because the both of you are smiling too hard & he pulls back, giving you a breathless laugh and and and i would just like to say, as corny as it sounds, that’s making love right there

my mutuals will tag a post like “I’d suck the soul out through his dick with a silly straw” and it’s a picture of a withering man who should start making a living will if he doesn’t already have one

I need to ride Fritz Ludwig so bad.

Just. Something about the image of me haloed by whatever light there may be as I straddle him, how I can feel the way his cock pulses inside me as he looks up at me with a gaze of pure worship. That light almost seeming brighter, warmer, as he takes me into an impassioned kiss and his hands on my hips come to encourage me to bounce on his cock.

Oh the halo imagery got me acting unwise

GOD. Sometimes I think about Fritz Ludwig and I find myself wanting to be just almost teasingly, indulgently tender for him. I want to kiss along his neck and jaw while I stroke his cock, want to murmur praise that almost feels like such wonderful sin pressed against his skin. Maybe I bring him to sink further against the crook of my neck as the pace of my hand grows, maybe I ride him slowly with my temple pressed to his and my hand over his heart, but I want him to feel the true weight of devotion in every ounce of worship I shower upon him, to feel the sheer warmth and strength of sanctuary as he cums for me.

AND ALSO. Sometimes I think about Fritz Ludwig and I really want to give him the chance to take his pleasure from me. I need to feel his fingers tug my hair as he loses himself to the pleasure of the warmth of my mouth. I need that man to praise me like something truly sacred all while his pace is something downright unforgiving when he’s inside me. There’s prayers in the lovebites that cover me and worship in every thrust, and oh, I can truly feel the bliss of heaven when he cums inside of me.

anons here are mastering the art of religious erotica with a dash of blasphemy over this one guy and i personally love that for us

day one of trying not to think about fucking that old man

sorry i covered your neck in dark hickeys and clamped down hard on your throat like limp prey while i was giving you a handjob. you whimpered a little too soft and i blacked out and believed myself to be a feral dog in possession of an entire rotisserie chicken

I'm thinking about Fritz again and JUST. Small orgasm denial thought. Just this pent up, stressed, craving thing who already feels a weight of both shame and relief just from having his cock in his hand, but then his thoughts wander to me, and he cannot hide the hitch of his breath as his cock jolts, the shame and want growing stronger.

His other hand covers his face as his pace on his cock grows, barely muffling the way he moans at the thought of my voice, of my hands being the ones to touch him…the hand on his face shifts to his mouth as he curls it into a fist, biting his knuckles after a particularly loud groan pours from his lips, but that barely manages to hide the whimpers that pour from him as he's fully pumping himself now, breath heavy as my name leaves him like a prayer--

His hand stops suddenly, stealing the air from his lungs as it firmly squeezes at the base of his cock. A hot sense of shame washes over him, hands shaking as he tries to brace himself to gather what little breath he can. Maybe he just barely manages to gather himself, drags himself to bed even as he can't quite quell the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, closing his eyes and feeling himself sink into a sense of want he's hesitating to fully let himself reach towards as his thoughts return to me.

me when the guilt coincides with the pent-up desire and as the guilt increase, so does the desire and need: