#;NSFW

[iunctura-arch]

@prettyboywarrior:

While I do find your other form more attractive, I'll rail you in this one. Especially if you're gonna end up like this anyway

"Yeah. Blame the genetics and the fact I sometimes end up stuck like this." But she's already shucked off her shirt, revealing the well-muscled torso underneath. "By the way, don't worry about being gentle with me. I don't like the idea of being 'handled with care' just because I identify as a woman even in this form. Fuck me rough and hard if you want."

[theothervonkarmagirl]

@on-dragons-wings

She rolled off of him, pleasantly exhausted.

"Where did you learn these things~? I didn't know you could move that way..."

[sixwingedmercy]

You know since it's sinday, here's a pic of Emily...

Credit to Collin_nut <- they said you can do whatever with their art as long as you credit

[ofcrimsonenchantresses]

( send ) for the sender to send the receiver a dirty text/photo. (Steve; @mxrvelouscreations

Wanda was absentmindedly scrolling through her phone when it pinged with a message from Steve. A photo message, by the looks of the preview. She frowned quizzically, Steve didn’t normally send pictures. He wasn’t a big meme sharer, and he preferred to show her pictures in person, not whilst she was out getting her hair done.

Wanda clicked to open the message as she took another sip of her drink. That ended up being a terrible idea as she had to struggle not to choke on the mouthful of liquid once she’d opened the message. The salon workers briefly looked alarmed but she managed to convince them that she wasn’t dying. Once she’d regained her composure, she looked around to make sure nobody could see her screen, checked the picture again and blushed heavily, having not expected her technophobic boyfriend to text her that.

[text, 11:21am]: well, hello.

[text, 11:22am]: what’s the occasion? my birthday was last week you know ;)

[jueying]

@celesticlnstcrs / nsfw muse reaction prompts / not accepting

[ many ] + [ praise ] + [ want ]  ;)) jy [ many ] your muse making mine orgasm over and over. [ praise ] your muse praising mine in bed. [ want ] your muse telling mine they want them.

If one were to ask Dan Heng what the downsides of what was essentially a long distance relationship were, he could most certainly list out plenty. Unlike the members of the Express who he could see on a daily basis in person, there were times that he would only see Jing Yuan every few weeks or months even in person. Even then, scheduling could be a bit of a nightmare if his landings on the Luofu might not work out well if the general was busy with... well just that, affairs on the ship that might eat up the entire day. It was only the location of the general that was a mystery and not so much what all the general needed to do.

Of course, with ample communication and tons of unfortunate trial and error, the two of them managed things just fine. Dan Heng would ask Himeko and Pom-Pom for a rough schedule to their flight itinerary and text over a proper estimate for both the time and length of his next visit whenever circumstances would allow him. He wouldn't ask what Jing Yuan did on his end, given all of the security clearances and secrecy involved in every step of procedures with the Xianzhou, but the frequent yawning and even more prominent dark circles rimming golden hues gave him an inkling of what it might be.

Despite the other's urge to perhaps play directly into his dozing general moniker after all that work though, it truly did warm Dan Heng's heart to see his waiting shadow there at the end of the pier during disembarking - vigor renewed in Jing Yuan's gaze when quick steps preceded a hug tight enough for the general's joyous chuckle to echo across his ribs and mingle with the quickening of his heart.

The day passed in a flurry of lunch and dinner dates, with idle conversation easily sprinkled in with the passage of time. There was always a new trend somewhere on the Luofu and ample photographs that Dan Heng took during his travels - gifts following in tow when he couldn't help picking up items that reminded him of the other. An unsaid question slowly creeped over their time together the later on in the day it became, all paths leading to Jing Yuan's front door as the moon chased the sun across the darkening sky.

"Are you going to invite me in?" Laughter lined his question as Jing Yuan's expression turned to one that would surely sell many copies if captured on film and print, the archivist mentally making a note to send a text over to the Express when he certainly wouldn't be making a return for the evening. To Jing Yuan's credit though, he dutifully set up a game of Starchess along with a small bottle of sipping liquor on his back porch, fully playing through a set of moves before Dan Heng made a different move of his own.

"Do you want me to stay?" The question felt a bit redundant when murmured against Jing Yuan's lips between long awaited kisses and caresses, liquor and chess forgotten when other vices were ready to be indulged in. Another laugh followed an eager reply, kisses peppered across Jing Yuan's face as the two of them made a hasty retreat to the bedroom; clothing strewn about in a task for their future selves to worry about.

Thighs fell open for the general to make a comfortable home between them all too easily, welcome weight of Jing Yuan pressed up against him making him smother a first quiet moan into another searing kiss - second one muffled against Jing Yuan's tongue when war worn hands traced over his bare skin. The next few followed in even quicker succession as deft fingers ran over his eager length and entrance, reverence carried in every motion. The question of Jing Yuan's stamina had only come up once, in the earlier days of their relationship when the general was able to prattle on about how his age and lack of intimacy in recent decades was a little bit of a concern. This concern was quickly discovered to not be an issue, when Dan Heng himself was the one who needed a break at the end of the night - definitely owing in part to ample amount of foreplay the other loved to employ.

He was already falling apart the first time to just Jing Yuan's fingers, slicked up to push into him with little resistance and backed up with the general's ample knowledge of his body at this point. His teeth found a quick home in Jing Yuan's shoulder when it all came to a head, his own gasps and pants almost drowning out the steady stream of praises murmured into his ear as his world gradually realigned. Warm kisses always flowed freely after, like a tether for his senses to gently coax him back.

Despite all that, a healthy but still embarrassing whine curled in the back of his throat when Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out of him, breath instead hitching when he caught sight of the other's molten gold gaze. The brilliance and brightness of Jing Yuan's eyes had been the first thing the vidyadhara noticed about him, orbs of pure radiance that almost seemed to cut through the darkness of the Shackling Prison all those decades ago. In their time together, an array of emotions burned and dimmed the radiance of the general's gaze. Each and every encounter left a deep impression upon his soul and today was no exception. The layers of restraint the other imposed upon himself were ones that Dan Heng knew about, ones that Dan Heng encouraged him to let go of at least when they were together, and ones that Jing Yuan would eventually do so after seeking permission each and every time.

Want hung heavily from his words, pressed firmly against the junction of his hip and thigh whilst waiting for Dan Heng's affirmation, and devoured his lips and tongue again fervently when granted. The heat formerly ebbing in the pit of his abdomen stoked to life once again when two halves became whole again, arms wrapping tight around the general's broad shoulders as if to physically merge their bodies together too. "Jing - Jing Yuan-!" His beloved's name spilled between his other exhalations, heat bubbling beneath the surface coming to another head when his climax tore through him once again.

Jing Yuan's feather light kiss over a glowing horn was what coaxed him back this time, silky strands of long hair clinging to his neck and shoulders with the intensity of their love making as soft praises caressed his ears once again. Tilting his head over, Dan Heng sought to swallow his boyfriend's sweet words with a kiss hopefully carry just as much tenderness. His own sweet words flowed from him in hushed tones, nudged between presses of his mouth as he basked in Jing Yuan's very presence for just a moment longer.

"I love you…" He liked the way those golden hues would brighten every time he said it regardless of the time or the place, more than enough to repeat his words because when it mattered, you had to say it twice. Lips and tongue worked against Jing Yuan's in his own way of worship, in unspoken praise before his own want welled up once more inside of him.

"Again…" He murmured breathlessly, leg curling around one of those so called ancient hips and moaning softly when slickness between his thighs made it easy for the other to move once more. Silken strands tangled slightly in between Jing Yuan's fingers, Dan Heng bringing his own hand up to press the general's palm into cheek and exhaling a shaky sigh against the skin.

"I want you... again."

[momguilt]

SHE MOVES LIKE A ROBOT. alie controls every motion , every step. the mechanical way she peels off her clothes and slides her body into place with another man. he's one of alie's too. this is all part of her plan. break marcus , and then he will take the key. abby knew what would break him. and alie used that to her advantage.

abby's body tangles with the other man , legs around his hips when he fills her , his nails down her back and her lips on his neck. marcus could walk in on this. he could watch her throw away their relationship , watch her betrayal. there's no pleasure for the doctor , but she's moaning and gasping like there is. just then , the doors are opened and marcus is thrown into the room by two guards. abby locks eyes with him , a smile creeping onto her lips briefly before her head tips back.

@aigonakru

[pantachorei]

@batoushoujo :

What Ratio’s packing:

nice try but this dick is for select eyes only

[queen-of-the-mad]

NSFW ASTRID HEADCANONS FOR SINDAY OOOOOOH

Has not yet had bottom surgery.

Enjoys simple, non-sexual acts of being dominated (someone holding the door for her, ordering for her, feeding her, etc)

Prefers soft, loving intimacy over rough, hard intimacy.

If it wasn’t obvious, Astrid is a bit of a sub.

Has never done it on the job, but isn’t entirely against it.

Would never, EVER sleep with a patient unless said patient was no longer under her care.

[quccninchains]

guilty as sin | drabble

{☾} Leaning against the stone balcony, Alicent watched as her sworn sword moved. Everything about his body alerted to danger—a honed weapon that Ser Criston continued to whet against stone. Grunts and clinks echoed up from the training yard—a symphony of warfare. 

She had no taste for battle, but she understood the unfortunate necessity for it. And of course, if the crown expected to have capable soldiers—they must constantly train and better themselves. Even her sworn sword. It wouldn’t do to have the man who vowed to protect her life, and that of her children, to his last, to be anything but prepared and trained. 

Alicent watches the cut of his body as he swings his sword—he’d divulged himself of his armor half an hour prior and trained alone in only his breeches, boots, and linen shirt. It wasn’t proper, nor appropriate, the way her eyes focused on his muscles. And yet…she couldn’t tear them away. As he turned and swung, his sword connecting with the wooden practice dummy, she could see the tension in his form. Deadly. He’s been her dearest friend for nearly fifteen years and she’s always known he has a potential to be dangerous. 

Who better than she—who saw his display of raw power and strength at Rhaenyra’s wedding. Another thing her former friend had stolen—Ser Criston’s sense of peace. Alicent worries that he’ll never recover from the heartbreak. His name is constantly on her lips in the Great Sept, praying for his absolution—for his healing. She doesn’t quite know the word for her feeling towards him. Rather—she does, but she ignores the glaringly obvious. 

Gratitude. He has assumed fatherly devotion for her children where her husband failed. Respect. He did his job diligently and effectively. Her safety has always been at the forefront of his mind. Appreciation. He’s been at her side since that fateful day in the throne room. Comforted her every time she has to attend on the king in his bed. Had been the only one who cared for her when she was pregnant. Had held her while she wept—watching them take her stillborn daughter away. Had held her again while they pulled Daeron from her skirts, screaming and begging for his mama as they loaded him into a carriage.

The word came to mind in an unwanted torrent, plaguing her with guilt. Love. She was married—and not to him, despite the early wishes of her girlhood. She loved him and had done so for fifteen years. He was her best friend, her confidant. 

It wasn’t their fault that it could never be. 

Their eyes meet across the training yard and they share a moment of unspoken understanding. Slender fingers reach up and touch her pendant, steadying herself as she studies him. A masterclass in coveting. His chest is heaving and she can see the glisten of sweat upon his brow and neck—can see a trickle slip down through the unlaced top of his blouse. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, subtly—she doesn’t think he can see it from his spot below. She notes curly, dark hair dipping below his neckline and she wonders what it must be like to run her fingers through it. 

It’s a sinful thought—it sends a blush to her cheeks and a warmth between her thighs. But the knowledge of her adulterous thought isn’t enough to keep her from wishing his lips would touch hers, from praying his fingers touch her body, from wondering what it would be like to feel him on top of her. 

Alicent dips her head in a soft, cursory acknowledgement. She barely registers his bow in return and turns on her heel, green gown swirling between her legs as she takes long, purposeful strides away. Distance. Distance would absolve her of those thoughts. Perhaps a visit to the Sept. Anything to keep her from fantasizing. Another guard sweeps in behind her, keeping a watchful gaze on the queen as she gracefully flees. 

Dinner comes and goes and Alicent barely speaks a word that isn’t required of her. As always, she is the picture of queenly perfection and poise. Always catering to her husband, her children—lavishing kind smiles on those who compliment her. She waits in her chamber for the request that never comes. Blessedly forgotten by her husband. She expects he’s working on that model once more—despite her simmering bitterness towards Viserys, she loved him. And his model of Old Valyria was beautiful. It was one of the few things they shared a love of—the histories. 

And she’ll never complain at having to avoid paying the marital tax. Laying beneath him while he does his business, never once asking her mind. His grunts haunt her, the thrashing above her as she feigns pleasure near the same time as him. He’s called her Aemma more times than she can count—despite the near comical difference in appearance. 

She has no intimate attachment to her husband, but she still burns in shame as he thinks of his late wife while thrusting into her. 

Her maids had left her for the evening, leaving her standing in the flickering torchlight. She had requested they leave the few above her bed on—a book was a careful distraction until the inevitable came down. After all, she was still fertile and her husband was (arguably) still virile. Though she’d given him four living children, there was still the potential for more—though that thought filled her with dread. Alicent glanced down, alone with her thoughts for the first time all day. 

She’d chosen her nightgown in anticipation of being requested—white, clingy satin that dripped down to her ankles, save the slit to her upper thighs. Embroidered by her own hand on the nightgown were flowers, foxes and other fauna. Her arms were bare, thin straps holding the gown to her body, giving an ample view of white, porcelain cleavage. Her robe, a gossamer slip, had been thrown over the chair near her writing desk. 

Alicent glanced at the fading light of the torches and decided that her attentions wouldn’t be needed. She could climb into bed and fall into her usual restless sleep. Pulling the sheets back, she slips under with a grateful sigh. There’s still a dim glow in the room but she makes no move to douse them. She turns on her back and rests her arms over her abdomen. Her eyes flutter close as she nuzzles in a little closer to her pillows. 

At once, her mind is assailed with images of Ser Criston training. She can see in vivid detail the way his shirt clings to his back with sweat. The opening of his shirt bagging forward, giving her glimpses of dark chest hair and tanned skin. 

It's not the images that cast open her eyes--but the pleasant throb she feels between her thighs. She lurches up, a soft breath slipping from her lips. The feeling is new to her but she recognizes it as arousal--something that had evaded her for years. Guilt surges behind it. She was a married woman and it was images of another man, her dearest FRIEND, that had cast the feeling upon her.

He's right outside her door. Standing watch. Ready to lay down his life to protect hers. Unworthiness floods her veins as she lays back against her pillows. A shameful moment has her wondering if she could crack the door open and pull him in for that KISS she's fantasized about.

But she doesn't move her legs. She wouldn't ask him to defile his CLOAK, his oath. There was no guarantee he felt the same way about her--even though there was a tingling feeling in her mind that was more certain.

She cared about him too much to ask him to dishonor himself and her vows.

Instead, she slips a hand down, her nightgown riding up her thighs. She's surprised to feel a dampness between her thighs but she knew it wasn't her courses. Tentatively, Alicent strokes the inside of her thigh, closing her eyes. Her knuckle brushes against the sensitive arch between her legs and a little moan is stifled into her free hand. Her mind returns to Ser Criston--imagining him removing his blouse, his breeches. She can see him climbing into the bed with her, his calloused hands sliding up her ankles, her calves...

She hooks a finger, slipping it between her intimate folds--lightly moving it. Heat flares against her skin and she sighs, biting her lower lip to quiet herself. A second finger slips in as she imagines his lips, brushing against her knees and thighs, kissing his way up her body. His hands are strong and sturdy, holding her in place as she squirmed beneath his touch.

Her fingers pump carefully, her body slowly riding against them as she sees his lips on hers.

A breathless sigh is the reward for his hands in her hair, curling auburn locks around his fingers. Her hands slip down his shoulders to his chest, her own fingers lightly grabbing at his chest hair--feeling warm, hard muscles against her lithe, soft body.

She gives a little cry, her fingers picking up the pace--stroking and loving herself as she imagines Ser Criston, kissing her neck and shoulders, guiding himself into her. Her knight buries himself in her, buries his face in the crook of her neck as he moves, slowly--almost lazily thrusting into her as her legs curled around his waist.

In her bed, her legs arch as her fingers move, curling and pumping against her most sensitive places. He's LOVING her, kissing her--worshiping her with his mouth, his hands, his body. He was right outside her door and had no idea. She stops herself from crying out his name, begging him for more. Breaths are coming from her lips in rapid succession, quiet moans in the dying torchlight.

The GUILT would come later.

It's only when he whispers three words, three CRAVED words, that she breaks--convulsing around her fingers as a cry of relief slips out of her mouth. 'I LOVE you.' Stars shattered behind her eyelids, her body writhing through the wave of pleasure. It kept coming, this intense feeling--like she was flying and bursting into flames. He made her into a PHOENIX and he didn't even know.

Alicent lay there, panting slightly as her fingers withdrew. Her chest heaved as she sucked down breath after precious breath, body still trembling. Her heart restart its rhythm and halted again at a gentle knock at her door.

'Your grace? Is everything alright?'

Her cheeks blossomed with mortification. Had he heard? Did he know? She could only PRAY that he hadn't. Another thing she must pray for in the morning. She clears her throat, resting her hand against her throat.

"I am well, Ser Criston. It was..." Disappointment mingles with guilt and the ebbing pleasure of her climax. Back to the cold, cruel reality that she lived in. "...it was a dream. Nothing more."

[iunctura-arch]

All this talk about head is making Tatsuki wish she knew what it felt like. Especially since, it seems, life is determined to keep her looking like Dark today so she wants compensation for that-

[theothervonkarmagirl]

🍭:

Since it is technically sinday

The first time Maria had sex she was not nervous at all. In fact, she was quite eager to do it. If she seemed nervous, it was because she was giddy. And well, it was a little cold being naked. The first thing she said afterwards was "I love you, let's do it again".

Now this won't be for a while but I suspect Clara would need a Xanax or whatever the FE/royal equivalent is lmfao she'd be very nervous and it would take forever. Imagine stop and go traffic, that's what it would be like. He would need to be very patient. Maybe pack two of the Xanax.

[foreverascout]

Jean maturing is Jean realising how good it is to eat his lady.

He absolutely adores going down on his ladies and taking his time with everything. Of course he's not against a quickie but if he has time, he will put in the effort.

[ofcrimsonenchantresses]

[ STRIP ]: sender undresses receiver.(americashielded)

@americashielded

Wanda had only asked for Steve to help her unzip her dress. Just enough for her to finish the job. But instead, he'd slowly swept her hair along her shoulder and gently pulled the zip down until it reached her lower back. Wanda was about to step away to continue undressing, his hands were coming up to her shoulders to begin slipping the dress down her shoulders. It eventually fell to the floor and she was left in just her panties. "Can't wear a bra with this dress." She explained as she looked over her shoulders.

[sixwingedmercy]

"Collars."

Definitely not | No | Not Really | Its Okay | Kinda | Yes | Fuck yes |There goes my pants Bonus: Giving | Receiving | Both

It would really depend on the person. If it was just to show she was in a spicy relationship, fine. She would most likely be the submissive in any relationship.

@metaladam

[the-grim-heaper]

"I suggest you hide your manhood unless you're trying to imply something." He raised an eyebrow.

(@gambledfate from Luxord)

"What? Shit...!"

Sho quickly hid himself away with his coat. Damn this guy... Why the hell was he looking anyway?! It was already bad enough that he was stressed out. Now, some zeptogram had the audacity to taunt him.

"Mind your damn business..." Sho hissed, shooting an annoyed glare. "The hell do you want?"

[aeneasmuses]

👄, 🛏️, 🏬

Gonna make the bold assumption that this is for Ganondorf. Shocking, I know.

👄do they prefer oral or penetrative sex more?

Surprisingly, he prefers oral more. Both giving and receiving. It's a dominance thing.

🛏️what’s their favorite position?

Mating press, babyyyyy

🏬would they have sex in public? if so, how public is too public?

Are you kidding, they would fuck on their throne in them middle of holding court.