#[ wither : threads. ]

[nugatorysheep]

Ş̸̻͕̺́̚Ṕ̵̛̪̃Ȩ̷̳̫̿̾Ã̶̞̺̇͐͘K̷͈̿̎̇.

This damn comic is fucking A N C I E N T but as far as like, the content of it- not necessarily the art because I always hate my older art, but the presentation, what is objectively here- still feels right to me, so I'm sharing it. again

[princessphillipamontague]

{Roses wither but in the heart of a lover they live forever} | Rose x Phillipa {pride thread}

It took them a moment, a shared breath of anticipation and a last lingering glance at the bustling marketplace, but finally, Rose and Phillipa arrived at the entrance of the tarot place. The air immediately shifted, growing cooler, carrying the faint scent of incense and beeswax. It was dark inside, yet paradoxically lit with a myriad of flickering candles, their soft, dancing flames casting long, shifting shadows that played across tapestries and arcane symbols. The atmosphere was at once mythical and eerily inviting, a whispered promise of ancient wisdom and hidden truths.

Phillipa paused at the threshold, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against her ribs. She looked at Rose, her expression a mix of trepidation and a sudden, resolute determination. "Do you mind if I go in first—" she began, the words tumbling out in a rush. She didn't even wait for Rose to answer, propelled by an urgent, almost impulsive need. Before Rose could utter a sound, Phillipa had already stepped across the threshold, disappearing into the mystical gloom, leaving Rose to wonder. Phillipa hoped, with every fiber of her being, that Rose would hear what she had to say to the nice tarot lady, that the walls of the small tent weren't thick enough to muffle the raw vulnerability she was about to lay bare.

As expected, the tarot lady, her eyes kind and knowing in the dim light, gestured for Phillipa to sit opposite her at a small, round table. Her voice, a low, comforting murmur, asked if she had a particular question weighing on her heart. Phillipa nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She took a fortifying breath, bracing herself. "I am in love with someone," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, "someone so vibrant and dreamy – a—" she swallowed hard, the word catching in her throat, feeling utterly exposed. "A wonderful, creative girl who loves nature, and who would, without a second thought, care for a sick animal." She paused, drawing another deep, shaky breath, letting the description paint itself in the air between them. Then, her gaze fixed on the tarot lady, she finally articulated the question that had plagued her for so long, the one that held the key to her deepest fears and brightest hopes: "My question is, can a girl that wonderful possibly love a girl like me back?" The words hung in the candlelit air, heavy with unspoken longing and the weight of her deepest insecurity.

@beyondthebriars

[cyphyra]

...WHAT DO YOU MEAN KH3D CAME OUT TWELVE YEARS AGO???

[fatalled]

— WITHER. WHEN: the grand opening of anderson laboratories. WHERE: we're mingling, darling. we're networking. WHO: open to all.

Hadrian keeps a dark, weathered eye on the crowd. The tick, tick, tick of the muscles within the neck stretching to flash a smile to the unconscious glide of their fingertips across the delicate ribbon that held their masks in place. A nervous crowd, if ever he saw one. The music weaves itself through that tension and ah — a fine waltz. Dmitri Shostakovich, if he weren't mistaken ( and he rarely is. ) written that lovely key of C minor. Perhaps he was among ... company. The gowns, the glitter, the fake rosy laughter — the beauty of it all.

& even more interesting, the hidden identities of hundreds of EOs. Imagine that power — imagine what they could do with a hand to guide them? He had it on good information that many of them were agents from Cerberus. He knew most of them by face — but the added mask added a little fun to guessing game. He wonders how many secrets he can find out, how many little dropped words, how much he can take. How many more would be able to guess Wither from the curling horns of the devil in the pit of his own mask? Movement out of the corner of his eye distracts him from his thoughts.

"Oh — careful, darling." Hadrian is quick to reach out and grab a hold an elbow before everyone suddenly topples over. Dresses and drinks and shuffling feet rarely went well together. He steps within that open space to give them something to hold onto. "That could have been very bad. Are you alright? They didn't spill anything on you, did they?"

[arabella-strange]

god that candela finale was as brutal as you'd expect from a 3-part series ending in a 6h30 session

[condemnedsouls]

@ad-nai whispered a line ;; RUPI KAUR POEM STARTERS ( accepting! ) ‘ not everyone can be as soft && tender as you. ’

EMILY turned her gaze to the demon who spoke to her. she had yet to officially meet, or at least, spend any time with him outside of her initial introduction. charlie had been a lovely host thus far, having happily taken her in, ushered her inside && helped patch her up. her wings missing, other injuries still stung. it had been a couple of days, && she was tired. she felt like she had been run over by several vehicles, && she had spent hours on the streets, witnessing exactly what alastor said.

sinners were ... even worse than she could imagine. not all of them, no, she refused to let go of her hope for the people here, but some of them && their actions, they made her shudder.

❝ i know that. even before this, i knew that. ❞

her voice was soft, almost sad in tone, really. she did not like it, she did not like seeing the horrors of hell, but she was here regardless. it made no difference what she liked or wanted. she was here, && she would find a way to help.

❝ they can still choose to be good, though. in time, in words or action. i believe they can. it might just be difficult. not all of them may be willing, but i am sure they could. ❞

[ihaveaskeleton]

Ydrich, Astarion, and Karlach were naturally gravitating towards Wyll as their leader until Withers showed up and declared it Ydrich's responsibility.

[mansworstcreations]

TAG DUMP.

[hockeytwittereats]

Christmas Tree Farm is a song about how adults made a place where you felt safe when you were a child and now that you're an adult you can still return there to feel safe and loved when the world gets too much.

folklore has a lot in it about healing some of the deep wounds of childhood all over it including the fairy garden vibe of the album.

evermore looks at the adults we lost along the way and how those moments of lost innocence affects us.

Robin is looking at a child as an adult and wanting to give them a space like you had when you were a kid.

[twilightichor]

Factually speaking, you are correct: it won't amount to naught. As he had already warned him before entering the realm of reminiscences engraved in Ley Lines, nothing of what he does will change the future. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean that the ripples it'll cause will go unnoticed. For Dáinsleif is right here, witnessing his own memories as Rèn does as a spectator and participant at the same time and— truth be said, his gesture moves him deeply. But that doesn't mean that it will never be noticed. While it will be lived by the me of the past, I am witnessing it with my own eyes and soul.

Albescent lashes flutter close as roseate lips part to heave a quivering exhale. For the longest time he did a great job at masking his sentiments until it was safe to release them however his heart demanded, even now since he reencountered Rèn... it continues to be no different than a roller-coasters of emotions, regardless.

Five hundred years in unwanted solitude I've spent, sometimes wondering if it is a sin to yearn for someone else's company when I was daring the most. But now I know... if you had the opportunity and the means, you would've stayed by my side... thank you. A smile Rèn won't see due to the present circumstances makes its way to his lips as a single tear falls down. Were I to rationalize it, I'd be unable to say it back... however, I, too, have realized that love is irrational. In my heart... I know that I love you too. I always have, even when merciless distance was in between.

Shoulders rise and fall in a deeper breath to calm himself as he watches himself and Rèn about to express their sentiments through love making. Sapphire irises soften at the sight, his chest warm with emotion as if it were himself the one there. The beginning of healing and mending his torn and broken soul is upon them— he couldn't feel any more happier than he is for being able to participate in it, broken as he, too, is.

Albescent lashes flutter open to reveal crystalline blues, now wakened after resting and recovering from their expression of love. Contentment reaches roseate lips as he stretches a bit, his head nestles further on Yìng Xīng's pectoral next as one hand caresses the other. A blue-black strand catches his sight anew, thus long fingers reach out to play with it absentmindedly, reflecting on how different he is to what he knew of him, byproduct of his advanced age at the time. ◜Rèn...◞ His name sounds foreign on his tongue, but necessary if he's to commit it to memory regardless. ◜Is that how you go by now? Do you want me to adhere to that name, too?◞

How love can be so blind? Here he is like a ghost would suddenly appear only to vanish away, unable to tell him in detail about how he arrived to Khaenri'ah nor anything concerning the circumstances that made it possible— not that this is one memory in the fabric reminiscences of this world nor that a thousand years separate them. Nothing. Even so, Dáinsleif would believe every word he says and, doubtful as he seems at every step of this story, he accepts it and takes it for what it is: he is here and he can stay for as long as he wants.

Although his stipulations are unknown verbally, his following actions say it all. Blade's heart sinks when he cups his face once again, not with the intention to search again something he won't find that Yìng Xīng had— because there isn't. But to bring their lips together in a deeply touching kiss that burns the corners of his eyes as the blond's must have the next time his moonlight eyes meet sapphires.

How love can be so blind? Rèn would ask himself again, only to come to the realisation that maybe, only maybe... that is the whole point of love once it manifests between two individuals. Love doesn't understand to reason and is completely unconditional... just as Dáinsleif taught him by staying with him through thick and thin, even after abandoning him not only once, but twice. Even after there was no certainty that he still kept loving him. And that— that touches him to the very core.

Incompetent to contain his own tears with the creasing between dark eyebrows and trembling of his lips, Blade reaches out back to cup Dáinsleif's face as if he just found the most precious in the world (he already had before, but it's the realisation that makes out of this something novel that, in reality, always was by his side) and heaves a trembling exhale through his mouth. "I will..."

Sorry I couldn't stay by your side for these five hundred years of suffering you endured. At least allow me... to fulfill this wish, even if it's just a passing dream that amounts to naught.

Rèn kisses the blond again, this time less restrained and more genuine in everything he's been holding back that he couldn't show Dáinsleif. For in his heart, he didn't think he could find love to give it to him when it's so clear in his eyes that this angel loves him so— no matter if he doubts himself and may state otherwise. He's good with that, and he prays in his heart that so is Dáinsleif. Because...

"I love you, Dáinsleif." A thousand years have passed... but they were not enough to erase this from me, even if I'm no longer him. I love you.

[fatalled]

[ open starter for all. ]

The piece of art is ... in all honesty, boring. Hadrian sees little life with the unbalanced shadows and the offset composition. Stagnant, stiff. The figure is supposed to be a glorious image of the dawn but the muddied red stifled the cool tones attempting to describe the fog, the curls were dull with lackluster browns and grays. The gallery made a poor choice.

On one hand, perhaps it is a good choice. The artist is ... well, visible and Hadrian had no plan to take it. The gallery might be wising up — well, so be it. The owner or the curator could easily be replaced with a phone call or two.

He glances to the side and takes that second to study the onlooker. "Interested? I could talk to the curator and see if they can do something about the price. I would consider all art to be priceless but ... some prove me wrong."

[voxxisms]

@ad-nai whispered a line ;; criminal sentences ( accepting! ) "Have you ever actually killed anybody, or do you just talk them to death?"

A QUESTION that wasn't all - together that surprising to hear. whether meant as a jest, or a serious inquiry, he didn't know for sure, but he could treat it as though it was. perhaps by not rising to bait emotionally, he could bother alastor in that way. a bold thought, really.

❝ of course i have. you don't live eighty years in hell without it. ❞

annoyance in his tone now, brushing the other off as though the conversation was completely useless. it was far from it.

❝ i've killed more people in the last seven years than i have in a while, though, if that helps. ❞

he said it half with the intention of trying to insinuate something, half of an attempt to warn. that the once green, unwilling to fight demon that alastor used to know no longer really existed. but then ... they had fought together plenty of times even back then. not that he often had the final blow in those encounters — alastor usually reserved that move.

[infictionalwonderland]

★. s1 rafe who loves doing coke off your tits and calling you mommy.

warnings—drug use, mommy kink, semi-nudity, pathetic pathetic boys, bit of mocking

You’re not sure why you always find yourself in this situation—you’re not together, and quite frankly you don’t even like the guy (apart from the fact he’s so ridiculously attractive the lace of your panties is currently sticking wetly to you) but you suppose being a hot, bored nineteen year old is enough of a reason for you.

Not the fact the sheer power you have over him makes the heat in your stomach burn hotter than it ever has and his desperation makes you throb.

You’re sat on the sofa in his room, frilly black skirt nestled high up your thighs, exposing the lengths of your silky smooth skin. Your shirt is elsewhere, having been torn from you the second you sauntered into his room—leaving you in your pretty lace bra, the one that made your tits sit just right. Rafe Cameron, King Kook (or whatever the fuck those braindead clowns called him) was currently nestled into the expanse of your cleveage. His slicked back greasy hair falling forward slightly from the constant movement of his or your hands through it, leaving it to tickle the skin of your tits just so.

The sounds of his loud sniffing filled the air as he snorted lines of cocaine from the plush cushion of your boobs, while you relaxed against the sofa like you owned the place, like you owned him. His cheeks were flushed a delightful shade of pink, eyes glazed over from the high. Eager whines muffled against your skin as he grappled at your waist, squeezing at you, desperation in each press of his fingers.

“Mh—fuck, mommy,” Rafe whimpered, dumbed out, the sound so needy and wanting no one would’ve believed it came from him, “been—been needin’ you so bad.”

“Yeah?” You hum softly, coaxingly. Running your bare thigh over his in slow, soothing strokes as he practically kneeled in your lap. “How much baby? How much have you needed mommy?”

A shiver ran deep through him and he whined again, at the sound of you. The feel of you. You. He pressed his face deeper into your tits, eyes fluttering shut blissfully as he inhaled the scent of you and the last remaining flecks of the coke. His brain was cloudy and disoriented—in that fuzzy place that only you could take it to. His hips squirmed slightly, seeking attention.

“So, so much,” he breathed out, his gruff voice having a constant edge of a whine in it as he nuzzled into your chest deeply, “n—never need anything more than I need you mama.”

“No?” You mock lightly, your tone soft but sharp around the edges, just enough to take pleasure in his floundering whines, just enough to make him simper like a bitch for your praise instead. “Not even your coke, baby? Almost seems like that comes before me.”

He choked out a soft protest, clinging to you tighter still and shaking his head against your cleveage—mind too fuzzy to argue verbally. He squeezed tightly at the meat of your thigh, leaving red handprints, in a subconscious claim over you almost. Trembling, pouty lips pressing into your chest reverently, a single babble of ‘mommy’ leaving his mouth.

“Not even gonna tell me I’m wrong?” You huff gently in mock disappointment, lifting a hand to run your fingers through his slick hair, the strands still tickling the skin of your exposed chest in a way that sent flickers down your spine. “Mommy needs reassurance too pretty thing.”

“I’m—I—‘s you I need, not the coke.” He murmured blearily into your chest, snuggled up so close into you it was like he was trying to get in your skin. The gentle feel of your fingers over his scalp causing his breathing to pick up, his mouth pressing more insistently into your skin as he withered lightly under your touch. So pliable for you. “You—all you mommy. You’re—so good. Nghh. So good. Can’t think.”

You cooed, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “That’s my boy.”

The praise sets him off, a whimpering thread of something almost keening leaving him as he fully moved into your lap, shamelessly. You know all his weaknesses. He buries his face into your tits, never removing himself from them once. His big arms wrapping around your waist, his large muscular stature so unlike the current whiny, whimpering, pathetic behaviour he was exhibiting.

“I’m—your boy. You’re good boy.” He sniffled through the coke and his emotions, fingers rubbing patterns into your sides as he laid on you, a melted mess of the man people thought he was. His brain was so fuzzy it was hard to comprehend but you—your boy, being your good boy. He would do that. That’s all he could do. Be good for mommy. “N’need to be—for you, mommy.”

“Oh, I know. I know,” you sooth, brushing your fingers through his hair still, your other hand on his back as you let him sit in your lap. Your boy. “And you are my boy. My good boy, my best boy—“

His brain was completely blank now, feeling floaty and trapped on the same obsessive cycle of you, you, you—he was yours. Nothing else mattered. Rafe nodded desperately into your chest, a continuous stream of whimpers leaving him. Eyelashes fluttering against your tits as he clung on tightly ‘mommy—mama—‘ and ‘need you’ being babbled from his delirious, pouty mouth.

You bit back any sounds of your own, continuing to hold him in your lap and murmur cooing praises as he babbled needy pleas and nothings, completely yours to do whatever you wanted to—your lips tugged into a little grin as you allowed yourself to bask in the sheer power rush running through your veins right now, something oddly satisfying in the filthy fire in your stomach and the throb in your clit. Fuck if it ever felt good to do this to this man. Beyond good.

[dollfat]

so annoying trying to look up information on bg3 but only finding discussions from the early access stage

[literaryvein-reblogs]

what are some ways to describe people other than eye and hair color

I am assuming you are looking for physical descriptors. Here are some examples. I may just make a different post on psychological descriptors.

Arms: Long, Muscular, Pudgy, Short, Skinny, Thin

Back: Bent, Hunched, Ramrod Straight, Rounded

Build: Anorexic, Athletic, Beefy, Brawny, Burly, Chubby, Coltish, Compact, Fat, Gangly, Gaunt, Gawky, Haggard, Heavy-set, Herculean, Husky, Lanky, Lithe, Muscular, Obese, Overweight, Petite, Rangy, Reed-like, Scrawny, Skinny, Slender, Slight, Solid, Spindly, Statuesque, Stocky, Strapping, Sylphlike, Taut, Thickset, Thin, Trim, Underweight, Voluptuous, Well-built, Willowy, Withered

Cheeks: Blushing, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Disturbed, Glorious, Glowing, Hairless, High (cheekbones), Hollow, Honey, Livid, Pale, Pallid, Pink, Plump, Puffy, Radiant, Reddened, Rosy, Rounded, Ruddy, Shining, Smooth, Soft, Sun-burnt, Sun-bronzed, Sunken, Sun-tanned, Tanned, Tearful, White

Chin: Angular, Bony, Bumpy, Chiseled, Defined, Doughy, Firm, Protruding, Round, Smooth, Soft, Square, Strong

Ears: Jug-like, Large, Protruding, Tiny

Eyebrows: Arching, Bushy, Emphasized, Near, Spaced, Thick, Thin

Eyelashes: Artificial, Beaded, Beautiful, Blinking, Dark, Dark-fringed, Dense, Dusky, Heavily-fringed, Long, Mascaraed, Sandy, Sooty, Sopping, Tear-drenched, Thick, Uplifted

Eyes: Almond-shaped, Bright, Bulging, Expressive, Frightened, Gentle, Languishing, Little, Luminous, Made-up, Round, Shining, Shortsighted, Smart, Stunned, Thin, Wide, Woeful

Face: Baby, Blood-stained, Bold, Chiseled, Contorted, Dead, Expressionless, Fair, Familiar, Fierce, Flat, Frightened, Furrowed, Honest, Indifferent, Little, Pale, Poker, Pretty, Radiant, Rough, Ruddy, Sallow, Square, Stained, Swollen, Trim, Weather-beaten, Wry

Feet: Athlete's, Big, Flat, Pigeon-toed, Small, Sore, Stinky, Stubby, Swollen

Fingers: Gnarled, Long, Short, Stubby

Finger Nails: Bitten, Broken, Claw-like, Dirty, Hooked, Long, Painted, Sharp, Talon-like

Hair: Afro, Bald, Beehive, Braided, Bristles, Bun, Chignon, Coiffure, Combed, Corkscrew, Corn rows, Cowlicked, Crew cut, Curly, Disarrayed, Disheveled, Dreadlocks, Dry, Flattop, Flecked, French braid, French twist, Fringe, Greasy, Grizzled, Knotted, Layered, Locks, Matted, Messed up, Mohawk, Mussy, Muttonchops, Neat, Oily, Page boy, Perm, Pigtails, Plait, Pompadour, Ponytail, Ragged, Receding, Ringlets, Ruffled, Shaggy, Shorn, Shoulder-length, Skinhead, Spiky, Split-ended, Straight, Tangled, Thick, Thinning, Tidy, Topknot, Tousled, Twisted, Uncombed, Unshorn, Untidy, Wavy, Wiry, Wisps

Hand: Big, Elegant, Small

Height: Big, Knee-high, Medium, Short, Shoulder-high, Sky-high, Small, Tall, Towering, Waist-high

Legs: Amputated, Bandy, Bony, Bowed, Brawny, Bulging, Fluted, Gartered, Gouty, Graceful, Hacked, Hairy, Jagged, Knotted, Leaden, Long, Lower, Muscular, Pitiful, Rickety, Shapely, Shivering, Short, Sinewy, Slender, Slim, Spindle, Stockinged, Sturdy, Thin, Thread-like, Tinder, Tiny, Toothsome, Tree trunks

Lips: Blue, Cracked, Cupid's Bow, Downturned, Dry, Fat, Full, Grim, Large, Luscious, Parched, Parted, Red, Ruby, Small, Smiling, Thin, Wet

Mouth: Arch, Ascetic, Baby, Cavernous, Churning, Compressed, Cooing, Coral, Cracked, Cruel, Delicate, Dumpled, Distended, Dry, Fine, Firm, Frothy, Full, Funnel-shaped, Gaping, Grim, Handsome, Hungry, Insistent, Irritable, Large, Luscious, Munching, Musty, Perilous, Puckered, Querulous, Relaxed, Resolute, Sardonic, Sensuous, Serious, Slobbering, Small, Sulky, Sweet, Tender, Thin, Wide, Winsome, Wrinkled, Yawning

Neck: Bullnecked, Elegant, Long, Short, Swan-like, Thick

Palm: Broad, Oval, Rectangular, Square

Skin: Acned, Alabaster, Albino, Apricot, Black, Blemished, Blistered, Blooming, Blotchy, Blushing, Bronzed, Cadaverous, Calloused, Caramel, Clear, Craggy, Cream, Ebony, Fair, Flush, Freckled, Glowing, Greasy, Ivory, Jaundiced, Leathery, Lily-white, Lined, Milky, Mottled, Nut-brown, Olive, Pale, Pallid, Pasty, Peeling, Pimpled, Pink, Pitted, Pockmarked, Red, Rosy, Rough, Ruddy, Russet, Sallow, Scabby, Scarred, Smooth, Splotchy, Spotty, Sun-burnt, Tan, Wan, Waxen, White, Wrinkled, Yellow

Stomach: Bulging, Distended, Empty, Firm, Flabby, Flat, Heroic, Hollow, Lean, Paunchy, Protruding, Unbounded

Teeth: Artificial, Black, Blunted, Buck, Canine, Chattering, Clenched, Clinched, Compressed, Crooked, Dagger-like, Dazzling, Decayed, Deciduous, Extracted, False teeth, Feeble, Ferocious, Filed, Flashing, Fluoridated, Foam-laced, Fractured, Gap-toothed, Gleaming, Glistening, Glittering, Gnashing, Goofy, Grinding, Hooked, Horrid, Ivory, Jagged, Lacquered, Large, Milky, Mottled, Neglected, Pearly, Perfect, Pretty, Protruding, Razor-like, Sharp, Shining, Short, Small, Snowy, Sore, Spaced, Straight, Sweet tooth, Tender, Tiny, Toothless, Toothy, Ugly, Unrelenting, White, Wisdom, Wolfish, Yellow

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

More: On Character Development

[bernardsbendystraws]

. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ chris loves stuffing you full

⚠︎ smut, raw sex, p n v, creampie, stomach bulge, size kink, big dick chris

“fuck…look at that…”

his voice is quiet, but loud enough to accompany the lewd noises echoing in the room. your body feels hot, your cheeks burning with a red flush as short pants purse through your lips.

chris is hovering above you. his hips slam violently into you over and over again, his eyes trained on your lower stomach as he admires how stuffed you look.

“ch—chris…so big, fuck!” you cry, a brutal moan scratching your throat as he angles his hips perfectly.

“yeah?” he tuts, his movements growing with pride and confidence, “-so big, hm? but you can take it. yeah…fuck, you can really take it all, huh?”

his dirty words make your mind melt. every ounce of pleasure coursing through your body seems to multiply—the feeling of euphoria twisting around your limbs as you start to tremble.

chris is hypnotized by the sight of his dick in your guts. the apparent bulge makes him so proud—his sweet praises accompanying his harsh movements.

“pretty girl…takin’ me—fuck—takin’ me like a champ, huh? so good for me, so fuckin’ good,” he coos, his face scrunching as your cunt squeezes his length.

“oh!” you shout, your chest arching into his as you completely drown in the waves of bliss crashing over you. “-right there, chris! please—oh my god,” you sob, your nails clawing into his back as you hold onto him for dear life.

“mmmmm, right there…feels good for my baby, huh? yeah…” he nibbles on your lower jaw, kissing over the marks he had made on your neck earlier. “-wanna…wanna feel you cum—want you to cum, baby—please.”

you can tell by the desperation in his voice that he needs you to finish. chris is hanging on by a withering thread, trying to hold himself back from fucking you full of his cum. he’s too proud to satisfy himself before you.

“fuck—i’m—‘m cu—oh!”

chris is biting so hard on his lip he’s sure it’s bleeding. your cunt squeezes him—milking him as he finally lets himself come undone.

it’s pure bliss. every wave of euphoria feels like it’s consuming. your nails are clawing into him, your mouth agape while he hears how good he’s making you feel.

“f—fuck…look at that…look at you…” he huffs, finally feeling his body relax after the intense high. one of his hands trails downward, his chest swelling as he presses on the bulge of his dick in your guts.

you’re stuffed full of him.

a/n: ty for reading! any interaction is appreciated!!! check out my pinned for navigation <333

with love and big tits, rose 🫶🏻