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sacredsanguine · 3 months

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pillow talk: iii a joesme flash series | parts (i), (ii), (x), (iv), (v), (vi)

They’d planned to spend this night together, likely snuggled close under soft blankets after the heady heat and laughter of a few drinks had faded into pleasant, weightless sleepiness.

Joel had joked over the morning coffee she’d brought him about bringing over a pillowcase of groceries in case Esme forgot to pick something up to supplement the wealth of alcohol, tea biscuits, and condiments currently residing in her cupboards. She’d stuck her tongue out at him good-naturedly and made some silly reply about knowing which tomatoes were best for sauces and which were better for cocktails, thank you very much.

That had been before. Now there’s lightness at her ring finger and betrayal bruising violet in her throat.

Esme raises her head just enough from her kitchen table to pour herself another tumbler full of vodka. Her hand shakes, but the bottle and glass are already blurry. At least there’s no one in her apartments to scold her. The groceries she’d had time but not the will to put away stare accusingly from the counter.

“Santri,” she slurs before the vodka peels her memories one layer farther from painful proximity as it burns down her throat. Against her own will and all the odds drained from the near-empty bottle, a memory lurches to the forefront of Esme’s mind: warm hands in hers, the smell of sun-warmed violets, and a low laugh like pure sunshine.

I’ll teach you to toast in the old Aixoisi way.

Joel’s eyes had sparkled in response to her teasing glance. I’d like to teach you to heal even if you didn’t offer. But that’s a fine deal.

Teach me to heal? What an interesting proposition, Physician. Trying to get me to stop coming to you for every little scrape and sorrow?

A laugh that felt like summer. Never.

Liquid hits Esme’s lap in cold, thin drops. Neither the burn of the vodka or the sweet golden spice of involuntary ginger warm her. Not with the way the ache in her gut insists on freezing her from the inside out.

She’s always been lonely here. Of all lessons to learn from Pheles, how to wake up alone was one of the first. Foolish to think that this would have been anything different.

Glass clinks onto wood; the sound is hollow.

Joel inhales and lets himself slouch back into his chair. The sun will be rising soon and he will be expected along with it, but for now he is alone with his thoughts, half a bottle of wine he’d bought with someone else in mind, and a rosary whose cool, well-worn beads cannot clack loud enough to silence the hurt hurricane in his head.

It spins faster, juggernaut thrown between the deep-set ache of a wound that does not know why it was inflicted and Joel’s automatic desperation to prove himself worthy, if not innocent and maledicted. If not good. His hand flexes—not as if into a fist, but to grasp something already slipped away, fingers digging deep into flesh as in the aftermath of missing a rope already swung by.

The sound that rolls from Joel’s throat is not a growl or a sob but a creak; violets and gold burst from his hands in swirls too soft for what he feels. The incandescence of the unspeakable illuminates green glass as Joel reaches out to turn the label of the bottle away from himself until the crimson paper is just a dark shadow through the bottle and its lightless contents.

Even without the label’s pensive cherub staring beseechingly at him, Joel’s thoughts do not quiet. He sips, alternating between the last of the cherry-red wine and the water beside it, and wonders if he will ever learn how to stop bringing things upon himself. If he will ever stop wanting to.

His dearest wishes repulse their subjects, perhaps with their fervency. His ragged sigh flutters against the hand he raises to press to his face, uncomfortably flushed and swollen from an earlier round of crying.

Joel knows his scripture by heart, but it was not verse that taught him that unfettered desire of something corrupts it.

Joel the student, Joel the healer, Joel the man who strove to be the best he could, the man he had needed as a boy—and none of it enough. Good, but never good enough to keep things in his grasp from withering at the force of his want.

He had always wanted a family. Always wanted a child. Children. Had walked with open eyes and arms into wanting the woman whose name he now cannot speak without feeling something sharp rising to choke him like an unholy noose.

The city loves him like a son, but for all his glory, all his radiance, Joel could not keep something from being too good to be true.

They’d planned to spend this night together. Alone, they share instead an echoing and inescapable emptiness.

#written in nectar #pillow talk #joesme #'being loved is not the same as being of use'#and i dug my nails into that line until it cracked open like a pistachio!#soggy soggy blorbosssss

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godnectar · 5 months

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Oh no! Gadnector is becoming amune to the anons🙀 they will have to step up their game! (Me as a radio show host)

might be somewhat immune to the,,, "silly" asks atp— but my brain still goes 🤺🤺 when seeing y'all calling me by my user, even worse when misspelled on purpose 💀

#nectar's rambling #anon message #♡ anon #this ain't me being an egocentric mf #bc omfg 🤡#too much of a clown for that #but I do have a thing for everything to be written and spelled nicely so– 👌

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kallistcs · 1 year

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@nectaric asked: don’t do anything weird. act normal. - mak to adonis

-

"I am acting normal! I am so normal, you've never seen anyone be more normal. When do I not act normal?" hissing, Adonis just barely stopped himself from looking around, which, while that was definitely a perfectly normal thing to do most of the time, right then it would've looked out of place.

Or rather, would've been odd and weird, as his dearest, darling sister had termed it.

"What do 'act normal' even mean, anyway?" he muttered, for once wishing he'd worn something long-sleeved instead of his usual t-shirt, especially when he had his jacket tossed over one shoulder. Just so he could fiddle with the hems without being, hopefully, too obvious about it.

"Y'know, it was easier to be normal before you said to," Adonis added, feeling like he'd put a target on their backs. Or well, his, since his back was out towards the rest of the room. "Have they stopped looking?"

It was the only thing he could assume had prompted Makaria's comment, especially when, again, turning around to look himself would probably look not normal. Adonis resisted the urge to scowl at his sister, and beat down the urge to shift on his feet. Normal. Not like he was crouching in the bushes waiting for quarry to come within reach.

#alive underground: asks #nectaric #dfvjhfd one of the most Sibling Things I've ever written tbh

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bohcards · 8 months

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De Ratio Quercuum

In English the title translates roughly as 'the Account of the Oaks'; but this is Nathaniel Darcy-Evers' fascinating, if haphazard, survey of the occult properties of every tree he can find, not just oaks.

Tally Price (2) A price as the invisible world would reckon it; paid in uncommon currency, like the tokens called spintriae.

Written in Latin A dead language: dead as diamonds. [The Librarian reads Latin, but don't assume others can.]

Mystery: Nectar (8) Greater challenges require stronger skills.

Readable There are worse things to put in your eyes than this.

Thing 'The gentleman makes things his servants. The petty man is servant to things.' - Master Xun

Codex Pages, cover, spine, knowledge decently tucked away like organs.

#book of hours #cultist simulator #card #weather factory #tally price #written in latin #mystery #nectar #readable #thing #codex #curia era

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reasonsforhope · 3 months

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In the Willamette Valley of Oregon, the long study of a butterfly once thought extinct has led to a chain reaction of conservation in a long-cultivated region.

The conservation work, along with helping other species, has been so successful that the Fender’s blue butterfly is slated to be downlisted from Endangered to Threatened on the Endangered Species List—only the second time an insect has made such a recovery.

[Note: "the second time" is as of the article publication in November 2022.]

To live out its nectar-drinking existence in the upland prairie ecosystem in northwest Oregon, Fender’s blue relies on the help of other species, including humans, but also ants, and a particular species of lupine.

After Fender’s blue was rediscovered in the 1980s, 50 years after being declared extinct, scientists realized that the net had to be cast wide to ensure its continued survival; work which is now restoring these upland ecosystems to their pre-colonial state, welcoming indigenous knowledge back onto the land, and spreading the Kincaid lupine around the Willamette Valley.

First collected in 1929 [more like "first formally documented by Western scientists"], Fender’s blue disappeared for decades. By the time it was rediscovered only 3,400 or so were estimated to exist, while much of the Willamette Valley that was its home had been turned over to farming on the lowland prairie, and grazing on the slopes and buttes.

Pictured: Female and male Fender’s blue butterflies.

Now its numbers have quadrupled, largely due to a recovery plan enacted by the Fish and Wildlife Service that targeted the revival at scale of Kincaid’s lupine, a perennial flower of equal rarity. Grown en-masse by inmates of correctional facility programs that teach green-thumb skills for when they rejoin society, these finicky flowers have also exploded in numbers.

[Note: Okay, I looked it up, and this is NOT a new kind of shitty greenwashing prison labor. This is in partnership with the Sustainability in Prisons Project, which honestly sounds like pretty good/genuine organization/program to me. These programs specifically offer incarcerated people college credits and professional training/certifications, and many of the courses are written and/or taught by incarcerated individuals, in addition to the substantial mental health benefits (see x, x, x) associated with contact with nature.]

The lupines needed the kind of upland prairie that’s now hard to find in the valley where they once flourished because of the native Kalapuya people’s regular cultural burning of the meadows.

While it sounds counterintuitive to burn a meadow to increase numbers of flowers and butterflies, grasses and forbs [a.k.a. herbs] become too dense in the absence of such disturbances, while their fine soil building eventually creates ideal terrain for woody shrubs, trees, and thus the end of the grassland altogether.

Fender’s blue caterpillars produce a little bit of nectar, which nearby ants eat. This has led over evolutionary time to a co-dependent relationship, where the ants actively protect the caterpillars. High grasses and woody shrubs however prevent the ants from finding the caterpillars, who are then preyed on by other insects.

Now the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde are being welcomed back onto these prairie landscapes to apply their [traditional burning practices], after the FWS discovered that actively managing the grasslands by removing invasive species and keeping the grass short allowed the lupines to flourish.

By restoring the lupines with sweat and fire, the butterflies have returned. There are now more than 10,000 found on the buttes of the Willamette Valley."

-via Good News Network, November 28, 2022

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hxntresses · 1 year

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@nectaric asked:

“ nothing’s going to be as good as it was before. “ - yang to velvet

Velvet's ears droop a little at that. She knew that a lot of time had passed since the Fall of Beacon, that everyone who had been there had gone through a lot since then - especially Team RWBY - but it was still disheartening to see that Yang had lost some of that mirth Velvet had admired in her back then. It wasn't surprising of course, after everything that had happened that night.

"I-... I know that." She murmurs softly, glancing downwards briefly. Velvet had always been an optimist, trying to see the best in bad situations, trying to live in the present and look eagerly to the future. Even with all the information that had come out in Ruby's broadcast - everything about the Grimm, the relics, Salem - Velvet had tried to remain the heart of her team. The heart of all of her friends. Tried to hold them together like the stitches in her emblem. Urged them to not lose hope. And Yang was no exception.

Looking back to her with a determined look in her eyes, she gives a nod. "But we need to have hope. Even though we can never go back to the way things were before, we need to keep moving forward. For future generations, if not our own. One day, things will be better. I really believe that, and... I hope you do too, Yang."

#i don't think i've ever written velvet this serious sdfgk #ty for the ask!#nectaric #🤎 — in character. ( velvet )

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lovrspell · 25 days

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Astarion that simply knows when you've touched yourself, doesn't matter if you've meticulously washed your hands several times after.

It shouldn't be a surprise to you, given how many times he's had your fluids on his taste buds and nose nearby your genitalia.

However, you can't help the flush that crosses your cheeks when, while he comfortably rests his head on your lap, your fingers barely even brush across his lips as you reach to caress his cheek and his eyes immediately light up — you already know what the smirk that tugs the corner of his mouth is about.

You knew he would figure it out, one way or another.

“What's wrong?” you ask, feigning unawareness.

He doesn't reply, rather simply takes your hand in his and brings it on his lips. He kisses your fingertips, one by one, his pretty eyes half closed.

He can picture the scene in his head: the way you had to stifle your moans because he was only two rooms away from you — then you had the courage to join him in your room as if nothing had happened.

Gods, you're gonna be the end of him.

His hips press into the mattress to welcome the awakening of his cock prompted by that thought.

“You could've used an helping hand, you know.” he simply says, kissing down your middle finger. He breaths in, deeply, giving life to his unmoving chest.

He can smell the faint remains of your nectar. He exhales, piercing rubies meeting your gaze.

“Or, pheraphs, I could have watched. Unless an audience makes you nervous?”

Your breath hitches as his implications make your stomach do somersaults. You sigh, fingers parting his lips gently.

“We can make up for that,” you whisper, pressing your index finger down his lower teeth so to part his lips further; he cooperates, closing his eyes and nodding. Concentration is written all over his pale face. He lets your careful fingers enter his mouth halfway and suckles briefly — but he must crave something else, because he pulls away pretty quickly; instead, his lips move to your belly.

Low grunts rumble in his throat as he kisses down, down, down until his lips find the waistband of your trousers.

“We should, yes.”

#astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x fem reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion x male reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x you

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honeyedmiller · 3 months

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Hiraeth | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

warnings: no outbreak, usage of marijuana, smoking, both reader and Joel get high, age gap (twenty-ish years), very much legal + consensual relations, smut (f oral receiving, fingering), pet names, no use of y/n.

word count: 1k

synopsis: the most invigorating and intoxicating drug you’ve had in your life is completely forbidden… and then there’s weed.

divider by @saradika-graphics

hiraeth (noun): the feeling of being homesick for a home one is not able to return to; homesickness pertaining to a home that never was.

You took another hit, the joint slotted between your fingers crackling in urgency. You hummed as your lungs burned so good, desperate for the warm summer night air that engulfed your body. You closed your eyes as you let the high roll through your body, sighing in content.

Your legs were tossed over Joel’s lap—the same Joel you shouldn’t be anywhere near because he was supposed to be off limits. Your shorts were unbuttoned and your bright colored swimsuit bottoms peeked through, teasing Joel with a reminder of what you looked like in his pool just hours prior.

Joel threw neighborhood barbecues all the time, and with your dad being his best friend, you were always invited.

You knew it was wrong to be fucking your dad’s best friend, someone twenty—give or take—years your senior.

But how could something so wrong feel so right?

Joel tapped your leg and you peeked an eye open. He was looking down at you with bemusement written over his features, holding two fingers out for you to pass the nearly finished joint to him. You happily obliged, handing it off to him before settling back down into the depths of the comfy outdoor couch on Joel’s backyard patio.

Joel’s thumb was rubbing over your shin slowly, gently tracing circles into the freshly shaved flesh. Your eyes opened again and Joel was staring at you this time, eyes hooded and dark with desire.

“We’re lucky your father doesn’t hover.” Joel murmurs into the night, sighing as his free hand trails higher up your legs.

“I know. Then we wouldn’t be able to do all the things we’d want if he did hover.” You huff a laugh, and Joel quirks a brow at you before offering the last of the joint. You shook your head slightly, and he took one last hit before he stubbed out the dud.

“Things, hm?” He asks, hand dipping into the waistline of your shorts. His fingers skate over your covered cunt, and goosebumps easily rise onto your skin.

Your brain is foggy and you feel like you’re floating, and Joel’s touch feels like heaven.

“Will you let me eat your pretty pussy, baby?” Joel’s voice is husky, a lazy smirk pulled onto his velvet lips.

“Please.”

Your senses are elevated, so every single touch he gives you is one that has you reeling.

“Such a good girl, usin’ her manners n’ all.”

You bite your lip and look at him, eyes no doubt half-lidded. If you weren’t high, it probably would’ve been a sultry look.

Joel’s quick to take off your shorts, prompting you to sit upright so he can kneel down in front of you. His kisses up your thighs are all lips and tongue, making you breathe harder as he gets closer to your aching core. He kisses you once over the fabric of your bikini bottoms, and you softly whine his name.

“Patience, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Joel slips the material off of your legs, only to be met with your glistening core.

He’s looking at you like a man starved, irises black and laced with determination and desire.

He brings a hand up and runs two fingers through your slick folds, groaning at how easy the glide is. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on them both to taste you.

“So fuckin’ sweet. Like nectar from a peach, baby.” He moans, not wanting to waste any more time. He moves forward and, with a flat tongue, licks a long stripe from your aching hole to your puffy clit.

You gasp and your fingers are tangling in his curls, eyebrows threading together at how intensified it feels.

And he doesn’t relent. He’s working at you with his tongue, slow and lascivious. Every fiber of your being tingles with a euphoric pleasure as he laps up your seemingly never ending arousal.

“Holy fuck,” You cry, gripping his hair tighter. He moans into you with a chuckle before he brings his tongue down to fuck into you at an increased pace. Your back arches off of the couch as you roll your hips, legs starting to shake.

“Close already, baby?” Joel tsks, and you groan in response.

Joel knew you and your body like the back of his hand, so he could easily make you come undone within minutes.

Sometimes it wasn’t fair, because if it were up to you, you’d have him down there forever. You don’t think he’d really mind it either.

Joel moves his tongue out of you and up up up toward your aching clit, licking tight circles around it before sucking the sensitive nerves into his mouth. He inserts the two fingers that were previously teasing you minutes prior into your needy cunt, expertly pumping at a synchronized pace with his mouth.

“Jesus fuck Joel, ‘m gonna come.” Your voice is whiny and desperate and so fucking breathy that you barely even recognize it. It was only him that could make you feel like this. Nobody else, just Joel.

Joel Joel Joel.

You felt the crescendo of your orgasm building quickly, and Joel pulled his mouth away for a split second as his fingers curled themselves in your tight heat to hit that spot that make you see the whole galaxy behind your eyes.

“Can feel it, sweet girl. C’mon baby. Give it t’me. Wanna drink you up.”

And you were a fucking goner. Your eyes rolled back as that tight coil snapped, rushing through your body so intensely it nearly made you dizzy. You gushed onto his fingers and in his mouth, and he drank up every last thing you offered him.

You were desperate to catch your breath, body unsubstantial as you melted into the couch. You winced as Joel slowly pulled out his fingers, groaning at the loss of fullness.

You open your tired eyes to look at him, and he gives you a soft smile before kissing you. You taste yourself on him, but he also tastes like mint and whiskey and Joel.

He made you feel so invigorated. You couldn’t get enough of him. He felt safe. He felt like home.

Maybe in another life—one where he wasn’t your dad’s best friend and where he wasn’t twenty something years older than you—

You could be selfish for once and have it all.

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @punkshort ; @tinygarbage ; @amanitacowboy ; @nostalxgic ; @pascalpvnk ; @cool-iguana

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #dbf! joel smut #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #joel miller fanfic

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goddessofwisdom-7 · 4 months

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Bane of Existence

Luke Castellan x reader

Description: Luke spends a few moments with you alone

A/N: So, Luke is canonically 19 years old during lightning thief so I've gone ahead and written an unhinged and mildly suggestive short. I like the concept of an unhinged pov ngl.

Luke plans on poisoning Percy. It's a desperate plan, in your opinion. And a stupid one. Percy is a child. The entire plot to overthrow the gods is fine, but there was no need to hurt other demigods.

"You're crazy Luke," you mumble, breaking your kiss. Your mouth remains close to his, breathing air into each other's lungs. The two of you'll have been hiding away all alone for quite some time, and looking at his kiss-swollen lips you lean forward to nip at them once more, "absolutely insane."

If other children were hurt in the process, you'll would be no different from the gods. But he refused to see reason. And for all his vices, you would not stop him from following through with this crazy plan and running away with him.

"We're going through with this plan baby," He says, catching your wrists tightly and taking two of your digits into his mouth, trailing his tongue down your skin and scraping his teeth lightly. Languid, sinful.

Sighing, you relax in his hold, a low heat simmering in your belly.

You liked Percy; of course, he's a sweet kid and it sucks that he's caught right in the middle of this disaster but you made your choice to stand by Luke years ago.

The two of you'll have borne witness to the most vulnerable parts of each other. The emotional and physical. He has experienced all your crevices as you have his. There is no alternate option to him. The world will burn, wholly and entirely, many will die but in the end Luke will crawl back into your arms and you will accept him each time.

For all the time he sounds with you in you he has created a space for himself between your ribs and that's where he resides in the quiet moments. You allow this because who else would you allow other than the love of your life.

You pull your fingers out of his mouth and clutch his jaw, wet digits pressing the shape of his cheekbones.

"We better not end up dead immediately babe."

He smirks, and oh yes, you're gonna spend the rest of your days with this man, "yes boss."

You press another harsh kiss on his lips before taking him up into your arms and he wraps his arms around you, encompassing you and hums. You are his bane as much as he is yours. He'd lick your blood and sweat like nectar, cut the two of you'll open only to sew you'll together.

There's no going back now.

The warmth of his breath burns your neck and you savour it. These are your last moments of peace before pandemonium.

*****************************************************************************

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fic rec #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #luke castellan #pjo fandom #pjo x reader

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illicitlimerence-writes · 8 months

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game on | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 1.5k words request: nope.warnings: this is just porn. i tried to give it a little plot at the end but it's all just smut. 18+ only, minors dni. it's also badly written and not proofread so yeah a/n: i've been reading a lot of hotd smut fics for like a week and i guess this was inspired by them lmao. it's shit i know but it was an itch i had to scratch

my masterlist

(dear lord, i want him so bad)

the touch of a hand. the discovery of the shape of his lips. learning what makes her tremble.

none of her previous lovers could ever compare to what max made her feel. their connection was out of this world, something one only read about in books. it was magical, the way only they only had to share one touch, one look, and they knew what the other meant, what they wanted.

max loved her eyes. they were expressive and as much as she tried to hide her true reactions to the rest of the world, he only had to watch her for a few seconds to know what she was actually thinking.

he especially loved watching her eyes when they were being intimate. how the tears welled up as she tried to follow his instructions and just resist the urge to snap. how they'd widen in surprise whenever he first entered her, whether with his fingers, tongue or cock. she'd always roll her eyes back when he changed his pace to reach her g spot.

he always made sure to love every inch of her, starting with her face and cheeks, he loved how he could feel the heat rushing there, blood running fast. then he moved down to her neck, leaving small lovemarks all over.

her chest would heave, moving up and down with every shallow breath she took. the way she curled her fingers on his hair only spurred him on, encouraging to continue his way down her body.

slowly, he'd raise a finger and play with her nipples, biting his lower lip as he felt them harden beneath his touch. his mouth would follow his hands, wet tongue ready to stimulate as much as she'd allow.

he'd look up, watching her brows furrowed in a perfect frown. mouth slightly agape as soundless breaths left her lungs. even after years of sex together, she was still as sensitive as the very first time.

he continued his journey down her body, reaching her warm, wet cunt, he looked up again, seeing her already looking down at him. with a pillow beneath her hips, something max always insisted on having to help with her comfort, it was easier to watch his hungry eyes roam her most intimate spot.

his mouth watered at the sight, he hadn't even touched her there yet and she was already ready for him. his fingers touched the sensitive skin of her thighs, big, strong hands holding her delicately. she whimpered, so ready for him it was almost torture. the pad of his finger met her clit, carefully drawing circles on her bud. his eyes flew to her face, hair resting all over the white sheets, her chest still carrying the evidence from his previous attack.

"so beautiful," he whispered, removing his finger to replace it with his tongue.

he could die between her legs, with his face buried deep between her folds and tongue inside of her. what a heavenly way to die.

but he still had a job to finish, he could think about dying later, first, he had to make her cum in a way she’d never forget.

fastening the pace of his fingers on her clit, he drank all of her wetness, a sweet nectar that fueled him even more. he moved his mouth and fingers, switching their position so his mouth was on her bundle of nerves and his fingers entered her, slowly at first, two at once, as she was so ready and prepared for him.

she let out a soundless gasp, closing her eyes as she breathed in sharply. but max curled his fingers in that way only he knew how, making her arch her back and look up at him, the desperate look on her face made a shiver go down his spine.

"please, i want you," she whispered, voice barely audible, "need you, max," she begged, her voice mixing with the obscene sounds of him worshiping her cunt.

"hmm, are you sure you're ready for me?" he said as he sat up, fingers still buried inside her clenching walls, so tight, he couldn't wait to feel her around his cock.

"stop. fucking. teasing." she said, rocking her hips, chasing friction. he smirked, free hand slapping slightly the skin of her inner thighs.

“you didn’t answer my question,” he said, moving so his face was on top of hers. he moved his fingers in and out, a slow torture that made her shut her eyes, a frown on her face and a whine escaping her lips.

“i want you. i’ve been ready for you since you kissed me after your podium,” she whispered, feeling as he moved her hair away from her face and neck, the sweaty skin causing it to stick there.

the moments blurred together as she felt him entering, their lips met, foreheads touched as they both moaned and groaned, the electricity between them was almost palpable, the air was thick and they were the only people that existed in that moment.

her walls around him felt heavenly, clenching every so often as he changed speed or position, which made blood rush to his brain and his cock, getting even harder. it was like a chain reaction, she made a noise or a certain movement, and it caused a reaction from max, which in turn made him roll his hips, grip her thighs or kiss the sweet spot on her neck.

sex with max was a religious experience. she could never get tired of it, no matter how many nights they spent together. he always managed to make her feel loved, desired, wanted. he knew exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t know it herself. he wasn’t afraid to try new things and explore the limits of her pleasure. everything with her consent, of course, nothing was more important to him that she enjoyed things as much as he did.

when she thought she couldn’t hold her climax anymore she always closed her eyes, the air couldn’t reach her lungs as she gave sharp breaths, and that’s when max would change his pace or his position.

and as she closed her eyes, her inner walls impossibly tight around max’s length, max decided not to make her wait any longer.

his lips met hers, one hand over her throat, squeezing lightly as the other rubbed fast circles on her clit. the sum of the overstimulation brought her to a peak that was different from all the others she’d experienced.

her legs shook around him, she wanted to moan and whine, but nothing came out. she closed her eyes so tight that she saw stars, burying her nails on his skin, pulling him so close she could feel his heaving breaths. everything inside of her tensed and then relaxed as she came, max's fingers slowed down on her clit, hips rolling agonizingly slow as he fucked his cum back into her quivering pussy, prolonging the shocks of ecstasy running through their veins.

"i love you," max said, kissing all over every inch of skin on her neck.

"I love you too, my champion," she smiled, lifting a hand to push his hair back, cupping his cheek, her thumb on the dip of his dimple.

"not yet," he reminded her.

"the third one is coming. and you're so close to breaking a new record, you're on win number nine in a row. but ten? that's something no one's ever done before."

"yeah," he said, resting next to her, his back against the mattress. he was nervous about beating a record set by someone he admired so much.

"how about a little incentive?" she said, throwing a leg over his hips, gasping as she felt his cock nestled beneath her folds.

"i'm listening," he said, reaching for her hands, locking her fingers between hers. she started moving, slowly, back and forth, in circles, on top of his hardening cock. "angel-"

"next sunday, after you win your tenth race in a row," she leaned down, lips on top of his, "you get ten orgasms in one day," she looked up at him, shivering at the way his eyes widened.

"that's… a lot,"

"you don't want it?" she raised an eyebrow, leaning back up. max, in his panicked state, grabbed her hips hard and held her in place.

"i don't know if i could survive ten in one day."

"well it's up to you, it could be… you give me ten, i give you ten, or half and half."

"i like that idea better,"

"which one?"

"you getting ten," it was now her turn to shiver at the idea, but the wetness pooling over max's cock let him know she wasn't too much against that idea.

"we'll have to wait and see then," she kissed his lips, "but right now let's go for one more tonight."

"just one?" max laughed, his hand slithering down her body to touch her clit again.

ten wins.

ten orgasms.

game on.

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sacredsanguine · 3 months

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pillow talk: ii a joesme flash series | parts (i), (x), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi)

An early morning calls, generally, for an early night to precede it. The night before the water festival, dinner wraps up early, leaving a quiet conversation on Joel and Esme’s respective early starts the next day for the pillows. That had tapered into wishes for sweet dreams and easy sleep while Joel’s call to Sam’s side and Esme’s return to Shatterlily were still clothed in the far-off rosiness of a dawn yet to come.

The night deepens into the sleepy, liminal velvet of a time moving like dark water in an unlit river, soft and ready to sink into. Sleep, then, should be the logical progression.

Still, doing something against what she should is not unfamiliar to Esme, and as she traces a gentle fingertip over the curve of Joel’s shoulder, navigating by touch and the soft rhythm of his breathing, she wonders if it’s just her, with all the warping she’s grown into at court, who finds something special about this stolen little morsel of time together: of knowing each other in the veiled dark just through touch and the low murmur of being loved in wordlessness, in the slumber-swirled promise of rest, in comfort without need for sight.

“We should get to sleep,” Joel murmurs. The callused fingers of one warm hand brush a stray curl back from Esme’s face and pull the blankets up more cozily over her shoulders, palm flattening for a moment against her back to make sure she’s covered there too.

She nestles close; the terror of it, of trusting this man’s hands and the quiet, unstringed brightness of his smiles, has faded now, though her heart races if she lets her thoughts settle enough to realize its initial slowing. “Maybe I’m just talking in my sleep,” Esme whispers. “I’m dreaming right now.”

Joel chuckles, low and warm, and the faint susurration of it against her hair curves Esme’s lips up into a smile. “Then I’ll come join you.”

They agree that they should both really be sleeping, but below the murmur of that concord is the unspoken, humming agreement to treasure this time together—stolen from its future as it might be, for now it can belong easily to the both of them.

“Good night,” Joel murmurs sleepily; Esme feels but cannot see his weight shifting slightly beside her, arm laying over hers. She had never said anything about it, but now he was always careful to let some part of their bodies touch like this when they shared a bed, a wordless promise that he’d be there in the morning—or if not, that the door would be locked behind him and the covers pulled back over Esme so that she’d wake warm and cared for, not cold and used.

The mere fact that he’d taken notice—that he’d seen signals she’d learnt to ignore in herself the way everyone else seemed to—petrifies her core, teaches sublimity to every fibre of her being as though standing on a precipice overlooking the vastest and most unimaginable of seas.

She looks into the darkness for a moment and imagines that she can see the gentle curve of each long, dark eyelash fluttering with the rise and fall of Joel’s breathing.

“Good night,” Esme whispers back, and for the first time allows herself to think that perhaps even if this is a matter of martyrdom and exchange for him, maybe she is doing the unthinkable. Maybe she is falling in love.

Esme looks at the darkness overhead, then shuts her eyes and looks at the darkness inside them. The warm weight of Joel’s hand decides her: Esme chooses then to put her trust in the hand that holds hers as if to guide her through it: against all else, the history of her senses shrieking caution and shying away from the vulnerability of trust when she knows not where she would be led.

As she falls asleep, Esme thinks it is very nice to stand alongside someone for once, to feel the fear of falling but trust your flight in the strength of your teammate’s word—no slip-ended oaths, no empty almost-but-not-quite promises.

#get ready for the angst next time <3 </3 #written in nectar #pillow talk #joesme #queueing now!

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yandere-wishes · 5 days

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⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʀᴜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Dune Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 ♡ ｡゜

☾⋆ Paul Muad'Dib Atreides | پل معادب آتریدس

He dreamed of you again tonight. Something cathartic laying across the sands. Your touch haunts his skin, tracing scars and stars across his cheeks. He wonders what you see him as, something sacred or something exotic. Neither matters so long as you love him...

Paul's a volatile star, always one breath away from exploding. You're scared to touch the golden boy, lest your fingers return burned and your skull rattles with the echo of the cosmos. Still, it's hard to miss the devotion when his lips grace your knuckles. Hard to miss the cacophony of his heart as it reverberates across the desert.

ᯓ★ Leto Atreides | لتو آتریدس

Leto kisses butterflies into your shoulder, the taste of your skin feels like nectar on his tongue. His mind is always racing vying for your affection, your attention, your adherence. He traces your name across his star maps, each letter scribbled in a melancholy blue. You grace his chambers again tonight, it feels so wrong to only see your silhouette, to not feel your love bleeding like his does. He kisses you again, something akin to devotion. He needs to feel you under him again, needs to feel the softness of your flesh under his fingers. Something in him shatters, something inside him rearranges. You make him feel so erratic. Why must he love you this way?

𓆩⚝𓆪 Duncan Idaho | دانکن آیداهو

his lips taste of chaos, he pours his passion into you.

He feels you rattle inside his bones. Feels you coursing through his veins like unaltered spice. He's on another mission, laying in the sand and daubing your essence into constellations. He dreams of your fingers running over his muscles pushing adoration into him with a rusted kitchen knife. Your eyes never gaze at him for long. And yet each stare holds the weight of a nebula. He falls asleep to the phantom melody of your sweet voice. Dreaming of returning to you once more.

༺🕸༻ Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen | فید روتا هارکونن

There's a blade in his hand, blood marring pale fingers again. In every droplet, he sees your face. Phantom pains rampage when he hears your name. He dreams of you holding a knife to this chest, breaking the skin, and riving through muscle. Each night your ghost plagues him. Hurting him in all the ways he craves. He dubs you ecstasy, overdosing on everything he wants to do to you. Everything he wants you to do to him. He etches your name upon his bones, dedicating each open wound to you. He's going mad over the notion of you between his sheets, limbs entwined in a bloody mess. His tongue craves the taste of your flesh, starved like the trees on Arakkis. He must have you, he will have you.

-`𖤓´- Stillgar | ستیلگار

Stillgar's love is a desert tune, the winds rustling through the grains before the breaching of a sandworm. He falls harder and harder with each soulful gaze. He's spent his whole life chasing prophecies that he's forgotten how to wholly love something not written in blood and legend. He prays upon every star, that the maker has written your names together. That maybe some prophecy exists where you are to become his. He watches you sitting across the dunes, watching as the sunset pales compared to you. He whispers prayers beneath his breath, hoping you'll be with him soon.

݁˖☘︎ Gurney Halleck | گارنی هالک

He stiffens under your touch, under the sonority of your voice. His battered heart rattles in your presence, the air in his lungs freezes and he momentarily forgets that he is a soldier, a protector, a tool carved to fight for the Atreides. He's not meant to love, to crush, he's meant to kill, to teach, to follow. A weapon in every sense of the word. And yet he'd throw the world at your feet for a sliver of your attention. Gurney can't help the flames that grow within him. The raging pyro each night when he catches a rogue glimpse of you through the crack of your door. He wishes to kiss you, to hold you. To make you his in every way he knows he can't.

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lustytears · 2 months

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i wanna turn you on.

loser!luke castellan x f!reader

summary: (title is inspired by the smashing pumpkins - today) luke castellan basically watches you from your cabin window and mutually (but not mutually) masturbates with you.

warnings: smut, luke is a bit weird. luke is giving virgin but that’s up to the reader honestly, reader gets sexualized by luke, written in mainly luke’s perspective but it does switch to the readers, masturbation, bathroom breaks (if you catch my drift from the previous tag), luke is a manipulative piece of shit but it’s very hard to know at first read.

You weren’t kidding when you had the sneaking suspicion that one had always been watching you. All of your darkest moments felt violated, invaded, or even threatened.

Maybe you thought wrong. That’s what everyone else thought when you confessed to your friends, saying that “Nobody would bother to try and watch you” or, “You’ll be fine. Camp’s safe.”

What you were unaware of was that Luke Castellan, the brave and noble leader who aspired many at camp for his dedicated devotion to his people and the gods.

Were you wrong to think otherwise?

•————————————————————————•

He was desperate. Desperate to understand you, feel you, and even taste you. His heart (as conveyed by those personal to him) was kind, logical, and even charming. He welcomed everyone who was unclaimed, and those who were claimed. The sweet little “heys” and the “hellos” are what people paid attention to. His demeanor and morality were nothing but pure.

You knew that for some reason, Luke had the right intentions. But for some part inside of you, something twisted his image into something so much more darker and malevolent.

He wasn’t dark, neither any of the things you thought. Contradicting, yes—but he couldn’t help but stare at you whenever you walked past, staring at the back of your body and sometimes your ass. He tried to snap out of it, tried so hard to keep his control, but he couldn’t help it.

He realized that you were his new obsession. Occasionally, Luke would sometimes go to the bathroom stalls to stroke his painfully rock-hard cock that leaked small beads of pre-cum, wiping onto his hand and leaking all over the base of his cock. His mind would drift to how your voice was maternally caring, sweet and dripping almost like nectar. Your lips and the way they would part open and close, rubbing them together against your pink-glossed lip gloss. The thought of the sticky consistency and shiny glow of your lips wrapped around the base of his cock as he steadily thrusted his cock hard and fast into your mouth like it was nothing but made for him would make him grip the top of the stall door.

Luke would try to feel disdained by these thoughts, try so desperately to think of other problems he had. But you were his only problem.

One day around Camp, he noticed how one of the Ares boys were sticking around you like you were some kind of fly trap. The boy would try and lift you up, slinging you over his shoulder like you were some prized possession.

“Put me down!” You laughed as you nudged your body, particularly your hips noticeable to both the boy that was carrying you and to Luke.

The Ares boy took notice of the sudden tension and put you down, before accidentally (but obviously, not totally) pushing your ass into his pelvic region when he grabbed your arms and pulled you back. You’d laugh, the impact of your ass in those little black shorts bouncing against his center drove Luke fucking insane.

Luke ended up getting one of the hardest boners ever to pain him, and he would occasionally watch your body move around, your hips swaying and the way your ass was barely fit into your outfit made him palm his cock, pretending to adjust his jeans.

On a dark night, Luke realized that you had the same routine. Specifically, it was your night routine. He didn’t expect to remember it, but he remembered one specific incident where he followed you to your cabin.

He watched as you opened the door and closed it, slamming it behind you in what may have been frustration. Then, he got the idea to get a closer look.

Luke inched near your window, crouching below the window pane just to see perfectly into the dimly visible light that instantly let him see into your own world. It was so wrong, but it was so worth knowing that the blinds were pulled up all the way, almost as if you personally wanted somebody to watch you like you were a product on display.

You walked around the room, his eyes following your every step, even when you sat down on the bed and looked through your dresser, going through the top drawer that contained your underwear and nightwear. Pulling out a black mesh nightgown, you got up and started to strip down to your bare and naked body. He carefully focused on how the t-shirt you wore hiked up above your amazingly flawless breasts. The way you pulled it off and threw it down to the bed caused the two of you to moan, unknowingly so. You seemed frustrated with something, but he was high as fuck on this moment.

His cock rubbed against the barriers holding him back, and it wasn’t getting better. When your thumb tucked underneath the waistband of your underwear and shorts, you pulled them down and off your legs. Your ass was visible for him to see, and he dared to peak his head up a little more to see how it motioned as you walked to your bed.

He expected you to put back on your nightgown, but he thought so, so fucking wrong. You flopped down your bed and pulled your legs up to show him how your pussy looked dripping wet. His mouth dropped, his hands going down to his pants and subconsciously unbuttoning them so he could stick his dick out through his boxers and thrust his half-erect cock into his fist.

But he didn’t want to touch himself just yet. He needed to see more. What more could you give? It didn’t make any sense, but it finally did when your long and slender fingers tucked under your weight, where you parted your cunt apart with two fingers in a ‘V’ shape. You moaned as the cold air hit your hot and wet pussy. Luke’s hands fumbled to pull his cock out, his eyes glued to the way you were now dipping your middle finger into your sopping wet hole. You pressed a finger into your gummy walls and started to create a rhythm along with your hips and your hand.

He rubbed the leaking pre-cum all over the tip of his cock, pretending like your thumb was doing so. He wrapped his palm around his dick and jerked himself up and down in a slow and deliberately painful manner. Your fingers moved to your clit and began to rub it in a circular motion, your lips all puffy and your eyes closed from the pleasure you were giving yourself. So much was going on for you that your back arched off the bed, and Luke’s cock was being fucked even faster from his own hand. He whined a bit louder, involuntarily thrusting into his own hand. The both of you could sense your own respective releases, and it wasn’t slowing down anytime sooner.

Luke would whisper his name to his own self, pretending like it was you who was calling it out through the muffled sounds of your moans inside of your cabin. Your legs twitched and two fingers were now deep and invasive inside of your tight cunt.

He hoarsely whispered to himself. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard all for you,” softly swearing as he could feel his own semen dripping out of his cock and lubricating his fist.

Your fingers worked harder, and your clit was getting rubbed to the point where it felt like it was numb for pleasure. You let out a steady and sharp moan, lifting your ass off of the mattress and pumping now three digits into your pretty and pink pussy. He watched you, all goggly and eyes wide like he’d miss one second of you. He couldn’t waste the opportunity to miss you cum.

Luke was now practically moaning and hyperventilating as he let out a sigh and came all over the place. Webs of white and hot cum coated his overstimulated cock and the fist of his hand. You followed along, cumming and tightening all around your fingers as you vocally expressed one of the best moans one could ever experience in an orgasm.

All tired and weak, your legs fell down against the bed as your swollen clit pulsated from such intensity.

With realization, Luke snapped his eyes down to see the mess he made just crouching below your window. He groaned, shaking his hand to get rid of some of the cum that was on his hand. His cock was now soft and finally pleased, so he tucked his cock right back into his boxers and pulled up his jeans, remaining low and among the bushes before he know it was safe to walk alone.

When Luke was approached by a wandering cabin mate, he’d just make an excuse.

“Couldn’t sleep. Had to kill time,” knowing damn well with a smile that you just solved his nightly frustrations.

#UGH THIS IS SO BAD #FEELS SOO RUSHED #luke castellan smut #luke castellan #smut #stalker #pjo tv show #percy jackson #percy jackson smut #fanfic

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pythoria · 7 months

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feeling some feelings about gale tonight *cracks knuckles*; he was a child prodigy, he was in tune with the weave, and inevitably mystra, since he was just a little kid. imagine being so in tune with magic, feeling so comfortable and safe within its bounds, falling in love with something so beautiful as a child. it becomes your whole world. imagine being filled with such childish idealism, such hope, that your only desire becomes getting closer to this thing, this goddess, finding that love and safety and giving it form.

imagine growing up, finally getting the attention of your goddess, how starry eyed you must be, how proud of yourself. this is your whole world, the reason you're alive, your purpose in life. mystra is everything to you, the magic in your veins, the giddy feeling in your heart, the proud ego in your chest. and then she finally *sees* you for the first time, you end up sharing her bed, touching her, talking to her, earning her approval, and, you think, her love. magic is your job, your lover, the motherly embrace of childhood. of course you would try to ascend to be with mystra forever. of course you would want power, so she sees you as an equal. of course you want to impress her, she's all you've ever known.

and then when you fail, when a ticking bomb gets stuck in your chest, you get none of that love and care. she doesn't protect you, she doesn't even talk to you anymore. so you've lost everything you've ever held dear in one fell swoop, the basket you put all your eggs in shattered, and you're left with nothing. you're now a middle aged man, your whole life spent in service of your goddess, who abandoned you at the first sign of free will you've shown. you feel like a failure. you don't have any friends, nor lovers, and you fall from being an archmage to nearly becoming an ilithid thrall. and maybe you realise that were it not for the astral prism, you'd have become a mindflayer and mystra wouldn't have saved you.

maybe you realise she's completely written you off when elminster shows up and tells you she wants you to sacrifice yourself. maybe you think "is this what my life's work is worth? a lifetime of devotion? a second hand missive asking me to die?". but no matter how ridiculous the request, you're in too deep now. nobody would care if you died, mystra made sure you were always focused on her, never making meaningful connnections with other mortals, having no friends, foes, or lovers. if mystra forsakes you, you might as well not exist. so death to serve her might be the best ending you could've hoped for, really.

except along comes someone, and they also have a worm in their head, and you team up, and soon enough there's a bunch of you strutting around faerun, and suddenly someone *cares*. for the first time in years, you actually have... friends? and they're telling you mystra is insane, that you've been manipulated, they tell you that what mystra is asking is too much, that they want you to live. and you're defensive, of course. you still love mystra, and you can't get away from her either, because you feel her presence every time you cast as much as a firebolt, magic running through your veins like ambrosia, nectar and poison all at once. you conjure her face to gaze at, and when you start falling for tav, you show them the weave, because that's the only way you know how to love. eventually you accept that you might have to defy mystra to stay alive and suddenly you have a choice again. but in the process, everything you knew and loved turned to dust, and you had to build yourself back up from the ashes, all while smiling and laughing and trying fruitlessly to fit in with your companions, who find you stuck up and weird after so much isolation.

gale is such a tragic character, if you think about it.

#pythoria.txt #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate gale #disclaimer i have only finished his quest once and didn't pay much attention because i didn't like him at the time #of course since then i absolutely fell in love with him #but if you disagree or think this isn't accurate i'm not gonna argue bc i'm just now doing a gale romance run #will also do a gale origin at some point

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gods-favorite-autistic · 29 days

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Track list for Fig and the Cig Figs independently published Junior Year album (officially named “Infaethable”)

Teenage Rebellion

Night Yorb (a heavy metal banger)

Summer Scaries

Devils Nectar

Time Quangle (a love song about Ayda)

Multiclass (Gorgug sings on this!)

The Ballad Of Lucy Frostblade (Kristen was the one who convinced Fig to write this)

So Late, So Tactical

Do You Have A Fucking Warrant

Cassandra (Can You Hear Me)

Hall Of Mirrors

President Applebees (written entirely in the night after Kristen gets elected by a drunk Fig with extremely drunk notes by Kristen)

Raging For Love (inspired by Gorgug, of course)

The Elven Oracle (Has A Day Job) (So Stop Bothering Her)

Maximum Legend

Fury Of The Ball

Cursed

Infaethable

The Bad Kids

#i neeeeed fig to go indie it’s her destiny #she promises each of them that she’ll dedicate at least one song to them and then dedicates a track to each of them individually #sklondas seething a tiny bit that she called riz the ball but he won’t stop playing it so it keeps getting stuck in her head #adaine summons mephits to help with her track #you can hear her in the background near the end yelling ‘yeah!’ and ‘fuck off!’#fabian wanted his to sound like a shanty but fig said it wouldn’t go with the vibe of the album #they eventually compromised by having the noise of waves and seagulls subtly in the background throughout #kristen actually cried the first time fig played the ballad of lucy frostblade for them #summer scaries sounds like an olivia rodrigo song #gorgug gets a sick drum solo in raging for love #time quangle opens with fire crackling and a bird cawing and a quiet clip of ayda saying ‘I love you’ before the instrumental starts #fig stuck a quiet sound clip of gilear saying ‘oh fuck’ and then a louder sound clip of her saying ‘oh fuck!’ in cursed #devils nectar is one of the slower tracks on the album #hall of mirrors is heavily inspired by the events at evil mordred and baron so you can hear a lot of influences from baronesian music in it #fig has a fucking sick as hell guitar solo and a couple of samples from just the bottomless pit in general in infaethable #Gorthalax also gets some lyrical input on it #fig manages to get a clip of riz saying ‘the ball bitch!’ to kalvaxus in freshman year to put in fury of the ball #is this too long for an album? maybe but who cares I love this #a good portion of the profits made from the album goes towards college for the party #having thoughts about fig and the cig fig’s Junior year album #autism (mads) speaks #fantasy high #fhjy #fig faeth #fantasy high junior year #dimesnion 20 #d20 fantasy high #fig and the cig figs

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prttykittes · 6 months

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ෆ ONLY FANS! FTM!Scara X Afab!Reader [you/your]

— Synopsis:: Your boyfriend has an onlyfans account and he decides to bring you in his account.

CW. boypussy scara?!!, onlyfans, scissoring, Dom!scara, ftm!Scara, reader can be female/NB/transmale because it's Afab, sex tape/filming, uses words such as Pussy, Cunt (for reader & Scara)

A/N :: Scara is so pretty, Lick and slurp on him frfr — written by a minor

[MASTERLIST] — ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯ works in link!

ONLYFANS!Scara who plays with himself on his account, anonymous people loving when he fucks himself. His pussy drooling his juices, him humping your pillows and toys he brought.

ONLYFANS!Scara who after has sex with you, he decides to record you and him having sex with your consent. He sets up and places the camera on you to.

ONLYFANS!Scara who finger fucks you, shoving his three digits in your cunt. Your pussy clenching his fingers, pumping in and out. His fingers getting wet and sticky by your sweet nectar.

ONLYFANS!Scara who gets in a scissor position and places his pussy on yours, his his moving forth and down. He grabs the camera and aims it your two cunts.

ONLYFANS!Scara who licks up your and his juices, it tastes better mixed up. He shoves his finger in your mouth after him, his saliva and left-over juices.

ONLYFANS!Scara who notices the comments on his account, saying how hot you look while he fucks you. He laughs knowing that he could be the only one that can do stuff to do.

ONLYFANS!Scara who puts on a strap and fucks you hard, was it out of jealously or possessiveness? Maybe both, his toy dick hitting spots inside of you. The comments were right, you did look fucking hot.

ONLYFANS!Scara who takes close ups to his toy dick inside of your pussy, your pussy clenches around his dick. You clench around as he sess you twitch then he can see your juices drooling down the toy.

ONLYFANS!Scara who thinks about going on livestream and doing whatever the people want him to do to you.

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