— FACE LIKE HEAVEN, #chromscx
smut + taboo centric. focusing on primarily queer dynamics. written by lexi. 23+ muns only. opens.
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@chromescx
— FACE LIKE HEAVEN, #chromscx
smut + taboo centric. focusing on primarily queer dynamics. written by lexi. 23+ muns only. opens.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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like this if there's some opens i can check out. thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu.
someone let me use her thaaaaaaaaanks
'𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪' 𝕘𝕚𝕗 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤 🌶️
send a pairing, a number and a letter for a usfw started based on the gifs below! bonus points if you specify which muse(s) you want. WARNING: the gifs attached are usfw.
m/f
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
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a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
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f/f
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m/m
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survival these days meant you lived or died by the people around you, and georgia sure did have some powerful players around her. vaughn was the person that everyone wanted to be close to, and here she was in a van with his hand on her thigh. georgia knew it was wrong, but that damn schoolgirl crush of hers didn't care. she couldn't tell if that was why her heart was beating so loudly, or simply how much she hated being out here. either way, georgia was on edge and she knew it must be annoying. "always." she breathes the answer, sincerity ringing in her tone. feelings aside, she knew she could always trust him. georgia sucks in a breath when he speaks again, curiosity ringing in her body as he turns off the car. the blonde doesn't speak again, just watches him with wide blue eyes. she can practically hear her heart in her ears, but she obeys, slipping out from the car and moving to the back with him. "what are you going to do?" she manages to ask without a shaky voice, but fuck is she nervous.
vaughn doesn't know much. he follows his whims, he follows his gut, the consequences be damned. it didn't matter who it hurt or who it killed or what happened. there was a greed beneath him that can't be satiated. anything he wanted, he got with the wave of his hand. there's another squeeze of her thigh, teasing and comforting as much as he could. for someone like vaughn, he knows his presence is commanding. it didn't take much for her to fall into his lap; all he had to do was show her a little attention and here georgia was. it was almost too easy. as she exits the car, quiet of the night surrounding them. the moaning of the monsters in the distance does nothing to deter his ravaging thoughts, thinking only about what he wants in the moment. a hand grips her ass, pulling her closer. “you ever been with that boy i seen you walking 'round with, georgia?" he keeps tabs on her; of course he does.

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the door closes with a quiet finality that seems to swallow the last remnants of the outside world whole. roman doesn’t move at first. the day still clings to him. sharp edged, suffocating, the bitter aftertaste of damage control and carefully chosen words. a storm forced into stillness behind his ribs. he exhales once, slow, measured, as if shedding it piece by piece. and then he hears it. not the house. the familiar creak of settling wood or the distant hum of something left running. something else. something wrong. his gaze sharpens. the bedroom door stands ajar. roman tilts his head slightly, expression smoothing into something almost curious. amused even but there’s a precision to the way he steps forward, each movement deliberate, predatory in its quiet. he pushes the door open with two fingers. his gaze drags slowly across the room, taking in the disarray, the unfamiliar presence tangled where no one should be. a stranger in a space that is, in every sense, his. for a moment, he says nothing. then the door clicks shut behind him. soft. decisive. “how interesting.” his voice cuts cleanly through the air. low, composed, threaded with something far more dangerous than anger.
disappointment perhaps or intrigue. the two tend to blur on his tongue. roman takes a step further into the room, unhurried. his coat remains on, his gloves still fitted neatly to his hands, as though he hasn’t yet decided whether this is worth settling in for. “you break into my home,” he continues, each word placed with care, “make yourself comfortable,” a faint pause, almost thoughtful, “and yet you fail to notice when i return.” he circles slightly, not touching or intervening. simply observing. like a man assessing something already decided. “planning,” roman murmurs, almost to himself. “so much effort, i imagine. so much devotion poured into every detail…” his gaze settles. sharpens. “and still,” quieter now, edged with something colder, “you overlooked the only variable that matters. me.” roman reaches out then. callous fingers grasping at her chin with a firm inevitability, as though the outcome was never in question. “look at you,” he says, almost gently, though nothing about him is kind. “all that anticipation wasted on the wrong moment.” his thumb stills, his grip just enough to command attention without asking for it. “tell me,” roman adds, voice dropping lower, silk over steel, “was this meant to impress me or were you hoping to be caught?”
there weren't many things yasmin had thought could get in between her plan and it becoming reality. realistically, her planning was lackluster — blinded by lust and an obsession that swarmed into something else completely, mixture with the need to do this for her own selfish whims. her own pleasure. her own depravity, as if she couldn't do something like this in her own home. roman doesn't need to know her true intentions; how much - or how little - planning took place here. in fact, it can be her own dirty little secret. that's all it was. that's all she intended it to be. leave a mark on his bed without him knowing, have him lay head where her pussy had been. sinister, maybe, but it made yasmin giddy to think about in her own private, perverted way. something just for her that no one can take away from her. it's only hers, a secret. it takes far too long for the voice to register. it's almost as if he's a mirage: hallucination of need, a figment of her deranged imagination coming to fruition, to torture her when she's already hit her rock bottom. her hips twitch, another low moan escaping bitten lips. the way roman commands a room doesn't still her movements. quite the opposite – riled beyond belief, she feels crazed. predator vs prey. yasmin isn't sure which one she is.
and maybe the point was to be caught. maybe the reason to be put over his knee, to be degraded and exposed for what she is – something slutty, silk beneath his fingers to be mended and formed into his own private pleasure. roman can do whatever he'd like as long as he touched her. as he goes on, yas keeps her chuckles in. if he only knew… her obsession only grows by the day, the millisecond. every time he breathed, she knew she wanted him in any form. it didn't matter the cost. the fingers along her chin send sparks down her spine, a brisk chill from the winter weather against blushing skin. even with the brutality of the force, the sharp edge of his voice, it does nothing for yasmin but make her shake harder. pleasure? fear? both? she can't quite discern; her tongue sticks out, just a bit, as if a dog awaiting a treat they never asked for, only assumed they would be receiving. she can be a good pet, if he wanted. if he forgave her for this. “i just – i just wanted to, um - ” she can't think straight, lust riddling every single thought she has. chest is heaving with anticipation of what he'll do. “i didn't think you'd be home so quickly, is all.”
the silence between them stretches. pulled tight like a wire waiting to snap back and draw blood. lisha doesn’t move at first. letting the words drip from his mouth. cheap, taunting, predictable. bored hues watching him pace like he’s the one in control, like this isn’t already slipping neatly through his fingers. her gaze lifts to him slowly. unimpressed, bored, the faint ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of rose colored lips. “god, you really don’t know how to sit still, do you?” her voice drips, honeyed and sharp, like she’s already picked him apart and found him lacking. silas had been a nuisance in her otherwise picturesque life ever since the moment their parents got together. with a shift of her hips, lisha settles once more atop the oversized bear. “and here i thought you wanted to put me in my place,” she adds, quieter now, gaze dragging over him like she’s the one doing the evaluating. the bear beneath her is incidental. a prop. nothing more. lisha leans back slightly, bracing herself on her hands, posture loosening into something far too intentional to be embarrassed. which was probably his intention in the first place. to humilate her but unforunately for silas, she was too stubborn. “or is that the problem?” she muses, tilting her head, watching him through half lidded eyes. “you don’t actually know what to do when i don’t follow the script.” her smile sharpens. “i told you i’d put on a show,” lisha murmurs, voice dropping just enough to pull at the tension between them. “i didn’t say it was going to be quick. now i get why you can’t keep a girlfriend. you always did seem like the type to skip foreplay.” her hips move even slower now, more deliberate, like she’s dragging the moment out just to see how long he can stand it. “you look tense,” she adds lightly, like she’s commenting on the weather. like she doesn’t already know exactly what she’s doing. “all that pacing. all that attitude.” her eyes flick down and back up again, slow enough to be unmistakable. “for someone who won, you don’t seem very satisfied.” the words land soft and breathy. there’s a moan on the tip of her tongue but she refuses to give him that. even as the slow roll of her hips becomes harder to disguise as performance alone. the friction turning traitorous, sparks catching low in her stomach and spreading in a way she absolutely did not plan for. her expression stays controlled but there’s a subtle shift. her fingers pressing a little tighter into the plush beneath her. her shoulders drawing back like she’s bracing against something unseen. something felt. yet still she doesn’t stop. if anything, she leans into it because stopping would mean admitting it’s affecting her and she’d rather choke on her pride. lisha leans forward slightly now, just enough to close some of the space between them. “unless,” she continues, quieter still, something almost tauntingly curious threading through her tone, “this isn’t about winning and you just needed an excuse to watch.”
he doesn't bother to bite back a grin; all he wanted was right here. she was at his whims, wasn't she? so easy, so beautiful – lisha is perfect in his eyes. “don't you worry about me and what i'm doing,” because he hasn't even gotten into what he wants to do just yet. all the possibilities are swarming his brain, overtaking each other and forming into entirely other incoherent thoughts. despite their parents relationship, he hasn't let that stop his imagination from running wild in the privacy of his bedroom. the scene before him is straight out of a 4 am fantasy – her words only add fuel to the growing fire. “i could, if you keep being this mouthy.” as if he doesn't enjoy it. silas is so easy to please. a beautiful woman doing what he asks is the tip of his iceberg.
a huff. she also knows how to get right under his skin, make a home there and make an enemy out of him even after he was so nice. “there is no script. how low do you think of me?” head tilts, brows furrow, as if he'd been offended. eyes glide down her frame – soft skin against the plush, hips against friction. if silas had it his way, he'd be behind her, guiding her movements against the toy and against himself. there's time for that. there's so much time for what he wants – lisha has no idea what she's in for. ignoring the throb of his cock hidden inside shorts, he snorts, walking back around her. “you keep track of my girlfriends… jealous, much,” off-handed. he only kept them around because they couldn't measure up to his fantasies. the same one present in front of him, sliding against the plush in a sickingly sweet manner. it makes silas queasy to think about. “you're one to talk with the attitude.” there's a slap to her ass in response, dipping down to reach where it meets the toy. the feeling of the fabric feels depraved, like they're breaking all kinds of rules.
instead of responding, he stands in front of her; arms crossed, defiant and steady. if she wants to antagonize him, she can, but silas won't give up his chances of getting what he wants. not when it's right in front of him, teasing him like a mirage. he's counting his blessing enough, pinch himself when he's alone to make sure it's not a dream. “an excuse to watch isn't as bad as an excuse for you to put on this show..” that barely makes any sense, and he can't be bothered to think straight right now. his hand dips to her chin, tongue wetting lips as he stares at her. “you're looking like you're enjoying this more than i am right now.” thumb toys with her bottom lip, thinking. “you can do it faster. bet you want to, too.” he wants her to get off to the friction of it.
ever since they met, sabrina always got on elena's nerves. she just found her too much of an opposite and bickered whenever the blonde spoke up. now, it seemed like they had to get along to survive. even the suggestion of kissing to impress the sorority sisters felt out of place and she was quite surprised to hear such an idea from the other but she wasn't going to back down from it. especially when she didn't want to seem uncomfortable in front of her. “to me, it sounds like you've been wanting to kiss me all these years,” she stated in attempt to rile up sabrina. “but sure. since you want to so badly, you have to kiss me.” elena leaned close, eyes staring back at hers, as she waited to see if she'd actually do it.
call it sink or swim — this is a kamikaze moment, and sabrina isn't willing to let elena get in the way of want she wants: in on this sorority house, in on the reason her mother pushed her to attend this school so hard. she's worked hard for this, a family tradition. eyes roll, a husky laugh, no denial. if elena wants to play games, she can too. tit for that and all that. “right, right, because you act like i've never felt your eyes on my ass when i walk away from you.” her hand grips the others neck, light and feathery, to pull her closer, devouring her. the kiss is short – way too short for sabrina's liking, despite her pulling away. eyes hungry, can barely contain her breathing. she can feel the eyes of the others on them. if they're cheering, the blonde can't hear it over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. “lay down.”
things got derailed here but as i drive into drafts, like this for me to check out your opens or check out mine here
yasmin is not a needy girl – until she is, and when your muse is busy on their computer.. she takes matters into her own hands. open to anyone with a penis. connection ideas: partner on their game, step-parent working, anything that makes sense.
she's standing there, staring straight at them. daring them to look up from the screen and at her. yas knows she's being a little unreasonable .. but she's obnoxiously wet and in a mood. not even sitting in bed and trying to get off did much of anything, only making her more frustrated that she can't have what she wants. on the second thought – she waits a second to see if they'll even give her the time of day. and, yet, not a single flicker of thought in her direction. yasmin all but stomps over there, pushing their chair back just enough for her to squeeze through. a quiet drop onto their lap, content sigh as hips settle against them. “don't make that face,” whispered, her chin dropping to their shoulder. “i'm just trying to get comfortable .. ” another wiggle, glad her devious grin can't be seen by them.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
'𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪' 𝕘𝕚𝕗 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤 🌶️
send a pairing, a number and a letter for a usfw started based on the gifs below! bonus points if you specify which muse(s) you want. WARNING: the gifs attached are usfw.
m/f
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
f/f
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
a ✮ b ✮ c ✮ d ✮ e
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m/m
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let me play my sweet girl pls n ty
silas has a love/hate relationship with your muse – it's becoming a problem of competitiveness, bending them until they break. they've lost a beat, now he gets to reap all of the benefits. open to f or nb, 21+. connection ideas: frenemy, (ex)step-sibling, best friends sibling or partner, anything that's antagonistic really.
he's eyeing them like meat. after all, they're splayed out for him: silky plush of the bear against their skin in some kind of abstract art silas painted in his mind, now come to life. “don't be a fuckin' pussy.” the bet was simple enough, and despite their obvious and grand best efforts, he won. it brings a cheshire grin to his face. a slight tap of his foot to the bear they're sitting on, as if edging them on. “you said you were going to put on a show for me. right now? 0 stars on letterboxd.” displeased hum as he paces back and forth. “unless you wanna admit that i won.. again.”
LARA RAJ Birds & the Bees (2026)
need that typical goody two shoes gf x depraved horny bf for my r. zegler pls & ty

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
yasmin is obsessed with your muse. so much so that she's essentially been stalking them – figuring out their routines and breaking into their home. but yas can't plan for everything, leading them to come home early from a work or a night out and finding her in their bed. open to any, 25+. connection ideas: siblings partner or partner's parent, neighbor, someone she bullied in high school, someone equally as obsessed with her.
this has been a long time coming: breaking into their home, tracking their movements each day and planning. planning planning planning. what she can't plan, is deviations of their day. the bed squeaks under the roll of her hips, grinding deep into the divet of the pillow. the low sound of a vibrator rumbles from inside of her tight cunt, face pressed into their other pillows — yasmin moans muffled by the fabric. “fu – ” is barely audible, hands grasping the comforter underneath. she doesn't hear the door creak open - exposing the curve of her ass underneath pathetic fabric of a skirt as it bounces against the pillow. “c'mon, c'mon – i need to cum, please – ”
vaughn is the leader of a post apocalyptic group. he had a few people out for a patrol, leaving the others to go find more supplies while they stand guard in the van, ulterior motives abound. open to f or nb , 25+. connection ideas: friend of his daughters / long time group-member, a new member, someone he constantly is butting heads with in a power grab.
they're both sitting in the front seats of the van. it's quiet, eerily enough if the bouncing of their foot wasn't involved. he tries not to think about it. their radio only picks up the static every so often, flicking in and out as their fellow members move about the area. the slight rocking of the vehicle is enough for him to reach over and grab their thigh over the console — eyes closed, brows furrow. “you need to relax.” nerves? anxiety? something else? he's not sure. a squeeze to the flesh where his hand is, heavy on and warm above the fabric. “it's only been ten minutes. we have another hour to go.” if they peered into the deep crevices of his mind, they'd see the ways vaughn would want to fill that time.