#usft.

❛ Say it again—who do you belong to? ❜

there's a heavy shudder that runs through Adam. body trembling as they try to ground themselves by gripping the sheets tighter and tighter.

! nsfw below '°•➷

The television blared dumbly in the background, a crown of static noise and soft moans, absurd in its theatrics. One thumb-press and it had sprung to life, offering her an anaemic procession of flesh and silicone. She left it running. Not out of curiosity, but to laugh, or to sneer, or perhaps to stage herself in opposition. What could those women know of this work? Their pleasure was painted on like frost on a mirror, gone at a breath.

She was not one of them.

She was not faking.

He lay beneath her, that man of noble ruin, half-saint and all animal now. There was nothing of chivalry in the way his hands lay slack by his sides, trembling only when she shifted her weight, his face her seat. Thighs, sun-kissed and toned, tensed faintly around his head. A little cruelly, she rolled her hips. A flicker of protest, muffled and dear, but she knew he could breathe. She could feel it – the rhythm of his life, hot against her skin, laboured and adoring. He would die for her, yes, but she would never let him.

The air conditioning clicked and rattled, struggling to cool the heat they were making. Her long braid lay down the curve of her back like a noose, catching at her ribs. Her phone was discarded on the windowsill, reflecting the city lights like a sliver of moon in a wine-dark sky. Ciaran sighed. Deep, contented, unhurried. Her voice, when it came, was velvet crushed and smoking:

“Mm… I should leave you there, Artorias. Set a crown on your brow and keep you like this forever. My sweet martyr. My ruined king.”

The blue light of the screen cast a pale, flickering halo over the room, over her bared chest and freckled belly, over the fine gleam of sweat at her throat. She dragged one hand down over her ribs, over the flat plane of her stomach, over the notch of her hipbone. She touched herself lazily – not for climax, but out of idleness. A little gesture of dominion. Of luxury.

Her pleasure was not violent. It was not fast. It was a feast that came in waves. Long, slow-dragging breakers that built behind her eyes and pulsed out through her limbs. She did not moan like the women on the screen. Instead, she smiled. Thin-lipped. Glorious. Eternal.

— from @apifacture

There is only her, all around him: the warmth of her sex, inches from his mouth, the rise of her stomach ascending to the gentle curve of her chest, and the press of her thighs to his cheeks. Her king, she murmurs - and she, his kingdom, his home, here beneath her, where has always, always belonged. He watches her hand dip between her legs, spread herself wider, a thumb languidly passing over her clit. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.

He has never wanted anything more than her, and the ache - the delicious ache - sat low in his stomach, thudding through him, is enough to drag his eyes upward, traveling the expanse of her, to meet her gaze with his own naked need.

Before he met Ciaran, he never submitted to anyone, not properly. He took on jobs, and paid due respect to his employers, and made a point of being kind and helpful to anyone and everyone he could - but it was never submission. He never gave up control, just deference. Now: now he is hers, wholly, and he revels in the sensation of it - of being so loved, so desired.

The idea had once terrified him. Now, it thrilled him. She thrills him.

His hands ache, too, to touch her; she has forbidden it for now. If she were to glance back, she'd know the proud of arch of him stands thick and hard with need - he doesn't touch that either, as desperately as he wants to. He can see the television glow paint her in snowy florescence; he can see shadows dancing on her skin. A goddess, wrought immortal in the memory of his moment. He's sure of it. He's sure he'll remember the sight of her, watching him imperiously, awash in snowlight, for the rest of his living days.

The proximity between need and release sings in his chest, in his throat, a taut line throughout his body that feels so, so close to snapping. The tension is incredible, intimate. He's not sure he's ever felt so alive.

In a moment, his tongue will seek out the pleasure in her depths, swipe and caress the hollow of her until her dominion is complete. In a moment more, he will surge upward until she is on her back, and he will rail her into the mattress as they exchange control, and trust, and love. And in the moment after that, they'll tangle up in one another in the sweatslick cool of their hotel room, and neither one of them will have ever better understood what home feels like.

But for now, he watches the way she pleases herself, teases him with those wandering fingers, those breathy little explorations of her heat, and he gives her a helpless, loving smile.

"S-Stop moving so much, Sebs." High Tide had to practically grit his teeth to speak as quietly as possible as he adjusted himself in the Sin's lap, trying not to shiver as he could feel his cock shift inside his valve. That was a stupid idea, to cockwarm Sebastian during an important meeting! He was drenched, coating his lap with his fluids and clenching around the pulsing length with a quiet groan, placing both hands on the table as he watched the others talk again. He really wished this meeting was over... (HEHES)

Sebastian's     expression     was     as     neutral     and     uninterested     as     can     be     ..     but     inside.     oh     boy     was     he     giving     the     biggest,     smuggest     smirk     ever.     the     meeting     wasn't     anything     special,     just     some     of     his     officers     updating     him     on     the     goings     of     the     𝐖     𝐑     𝐀     𝐓     𝐇     ring.     if     this     was     a     meeting     with     the     S     I     N     S     ..     it     would     be     a     very     different     ball     game     but     since     its     not,     the     𝐏     𝐑     𝐈     𝐍     𝐂     𝐄     was     more     than     willing     to     be     ..     experimental.

it     took     a     bit     of     convincing,     a     bit     of     allure     and     charm     but     he     managed     to     get     High     Tide     to     agree     and     oh     boy     was     it     worth     it.     maroon     eyes     simply     stared     straight     ahead     as     one     of     the     imps     drawled     on     and     on     before     Sebastian     leans     forward     to     whisper.

"     i     think     someone's     gettin'     antsy..     i'm     barely     movin'     at     all,     babe.     "     a     large     hand     moves     to     grip     High     Tide's     waist,     squeezing     it     gently.     "     just     another     hour     or     so..     you     can     do     it.     i'll     give     you     a     good     r     e     w     a     r     d     if     you     do..~     "

“you look so lovely like this, all blushy and breathless.” FOR Adam.

[Right out of pocket ™️ just in case censored 🍆 bc we know how tumblr is ] from alice to seb " Okay so you're tall...like really tall but the question stands...can I ride it? You know hands on the stomach for balance , next level bouncing myself on your ████ kinda stuff?"

" .... "

" i mean.. i ain't gonna stop you. nor am i gonna complain' .. " there's a snap of his fingers and they're in a large bedroom. the prince moving to lean back into the bed. deep red eyes watching her every move. " the question is.. you think you can handle it, baby? "

blood speckles lisa's face, stray splatters from when jd had brought the axe down a final time. their victim's dead on the ground and it's fucking exhilarating, better than the first time with her bitch stepmom because that was nothing, that was instinct, and they'd planned this one, carried it out flawlessly. the perfect crime: who's going to blame a dead man?

she looks good. slightly transfixed. her wide baby-deer eyes are still locked on the corpse for a moment. jd wipes his hands on his jeans, clears his throat politely. when she looks at him, he grins, raises his eyebrows at her. happy?

@sordidery: ( tug ) : for SENDER to tug RECIEVER closer by their clothing. /+ lisa

she glides over to him in that long lace dress, practically pounces. yanks jd closer by the collar of his shirt, and there's no mistaking the look in her eyes. lisa swallows is kind of a freak, he's been noticing throughout their acquaintance. jd can work with that. he kisses her red mouth like he's been dying for it, hands coming up to span her waist.