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😏 Cordelia

Send 😏 for my muse to confess an inappropriate thought they’ve had about yours.

You’re so beautiful... So perfect...

How many times would it take before you finally believe me?

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😏 Helios!

Send 😏 for my muse to confess an inappropriate thought they’ve had about yours.

I know you don’t ride horses, but I want you to ride me like I’m a wild mustang you’re trying to tame--

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Send 😏 for my muse to confess an inappropriate thought they’ve had about yours.

If your muse is already in a relationship with mine, it could also be a secret fantasy they want with your muse. 

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laughing during sex is really cute

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foreplay (◡‿◡✿)

slow, meaningful sex (◡‿◡✿)

quiet whispers of ‘i love you’ during (◠‿◠✿) 

orgasms that leave people shaking and twitching after as they curl into their lover (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 

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Send my muse a wet dream and they will rate it on how they wake up:

1. Discomfort/Disgusted 2. Confused/Uncomfortably aroused 3. Slightly aroused 4. Very aroused 5. Had an orgasm in their sleep

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It’s not so much that I want to kiss you. I want to relearn vocabulary words from the shape of your mouth. All my poems are yours first.

Sumia craved him. With every inch of her body, she yearned for his touch. For the warmth of his breath. For the satisfied shudder in his voice after a night of poetics and love.

She held his letters instead, closing her eyes and pretending that each word was spoken from his lips. She imagined that he would arrive without warning, the war declared over. That he wouldn’t even bother to take off his armor, he would march right into their bedroom and take her into his arms.

He wanted to relearn his vocabulary from her lips, and she’d teach him all the ways she could moan his name.

Sumia imagined all of his clothes being shed like winter snow, and he’d rip through hers like they were made of paper. She imagined her fingers tangling into his hair, and his hands leaving imprints on her hips with the lust of being so far apart.

She imagined that her mother was wrong, and that there were no others aside from herself. That he would groan her name with need as he buried himself between her thighs. That she would murmur words of love against his shoulder and teach him the vocabulary for her heart.

But there is a cry from the other room, and Sumia sits up, letting the poetry he wrote to her fall away. Her cheeks are flushed, the fantasy in her head dissipating as Lucina wails for another feeding.

The lonely queen sighs and picks herself up. She goes about her duties with a smile, and she keeps her head held high for Ylisse.

But at night, she will think of her king again.

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“shit, i left a mark..” // Helios

first time nsfw sentence  starters !

Sumia could barely hear him over the sound of her own impassioned moaning. His words came out a reckless mutter as he realized that his kisses had turned far rougher than he’d intended. Perhaps part of him had wanted this moment to be tender and sweet. To treat them both like blushing virgins and join together as innocently as they could.

But they rode waves of intoxicated lust, laced with the adrenaline that came from surviving near-death. Sumia’s hands clutched at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer with every haphazard buck he gave against her. 

They had been gentle and worshipping in their foreplay, but there was nothing delicate about the need they both felt now. 

“G-Good--” Sumia gasped as Helios cursed himself for bruising her neck with his lips. “Aah! Helios!” It was hard to keep her thoughts together. He groaned as well, burying himself in her completely, from tip to hilt. She shuddered, but it didn’t hurt. He’d already brought her to several climaxes earlier, with just his fingers and tongue. It had been plenty of preparation for the rest of him.

“Gods, Sumia--” he gulped, burying his head against her neck and kissing the love brand he’d given her, apologetically. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” she insisted. “I want t... to be yours. Please, Helios, d-do it again--”

 It was one of the most erotic things she could have ever said, and Helios was sure to make good on her request.

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first time nsfw sentence  starters !

“you’re trembling.” “i’ve wanted this for a long time.” ”i can’t believe we’re doing this..” ”we shouldn’t be doing this.” ”stay with me all night…” “i’ll go slow, i promise.” ”i’ll be gentle.” “you feel amazing.” “your skin feels so soft.” ”you taste so sweet.” “we don’t have to keep going..” ”what feels good?” ”do you like that?” “is this okay?” ”can i touch you here?” “this can be our little secret.” “sorry, i’m so nervous.” “did it hurt?” “i’ll take care of you.” “should i turn off the lights?” “do you have a condom?” “you don’t have to be so gentle.” “shit, i left a mark..” ”i think you gave me a hickey.” “my back’s all scratched up.” “more.” ”don’t stop.” “can you hold this position?” “say my name.” “i don’t think i’ll be able to walk tomorrow..”

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Mark me like a passage from your favorite book, then open me there again and again. // Helios

literary sexts vol. 1 poetry meme

Coming from him, the whispered words were particularly inviting. Helios had devised situations to re-enact her favorite book throughout a courtship Sumia didn’t realize was happening. she had fallen in love with him through the pages of that book. Through the scenes of romance and impact. Through the way he had turned those moments of literature into them, and something so much more unique than just a piece of fiction.

Sumia’s breath hitched in her throat, the moan she nearly emitted halted as his hands held onto her hips. A whimper escaped instead, as she shuddered against him. Each thrust sent waves through her.

“Helios--” she was desperate as he told her. Mark him like her book. Open to her favorite passages.

Gods, if she could open him to here, she would.

Again.And again.And again.

“A-Ah! Helios!”

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literary sexts vol. 1 poetry meme

Literary Sexts is a modern day anthology of short love poems with subtle erotic undertones edited by Amanda Oaks & Caitlyn Siehl. Hovering around 50 contributors & 124 poems, this book reads is like one long & very intense conversation between two lovers. It’s absolutely breathtaking. These are poems that you would text to your lover. Poems that you would slip into a back pocket, suitcase, wallet or purse on the sly. Poems that you would write on slips of paper & stick under your crush’s windshield wiper. Poems that you would write on a Post-it note & leave on the bathroom mirror. Treat yourself, a crush or a lover with this lush gift!

source and amazon buy link.  

I will be providing select short, sometimes edited, poems for a texting/”sexting” meme, but not the whole book itself.  If you enjoy the poems provided, please support the collection whether it’s the first volume or the second.   Or look into the works of the various contributors and see if anything else they’ve written is to your liking!  

Feel free to add to and/or edit these sentences to better suit your needs—but remember, many of these work best in the context of texts and/or love notes instead of spoken dialogue.    —Lizzy.  

Mark me like a passage from your favorite book, then open me there again and again.

My skin is full of flowerbeds and you know every way to make them bloom.

I am tracing the knobs of your spine like the map of my favorite continent. You are all the places I haven’t visited yet and I mark each one off with my teeth.

Your hands unzip me one breath at a time; there is not room beneath my skin for all of you and I spill over the edges with a sigh.

You take apart my heart in pieces with your mouth, but the splash of your tongue against mine feeds it back to me. It tastes sweeter coming from you.

You opened your mouth and spoke the language in my blood.

You kiss me and there aren’t sparks. There’s an entire orchestra in my chest, playing staccato on my heart strings.

My hands are nomads, my dear desert. May they never find rest.

Being small things, we understand this as our humble attempt at thunder, at setting the world to shake.

Delicate work. Like peeling kiwis. My tongue across your skin. Mellow flesh against my lips. Your taste always in my mouth.

How a storms needs to feel the earth how the earth wakes to the pelt of rain how the ground is quenched is how I need you… 

My hands were glaciers I never dared to move freely, my fingers icicles. Your touch thawed me to excavation. I want to dig into your warmth.

Kiss me like white bread, stick to my teeth even after the whiskey. I want memories of your mouth lodged beneath my tongue to wake me at two in the morning, hungry.

I want you next to me, in my bed, your clothes making friends with my floor. Love me hard enough so we wake up the neighbors.

Your hands peeling that onion, thumbs and forefingers pulling skin from skin—they are sacred. Let me kiss them. Let them bless my sinning chest, let them peel my lips apart.

I don’t want to be your harmonies anymore; I want to be the melody you scream when your heart is starving for love. I want to satisfy your hunger.

Show me the parts of you that nobody else ever wanted to sleep with. Show me it all with the lights on.

You, darling, are Vesuvius. I won’t see you coming. Erupt. Wreck me. Leave me ashes leave me Pompeii, leave me outlined into your history forever.

It’s not so much that I want to kiss you. I want to relearn vocabulary words from the shape of your mouth. All my poems are yours first.

Kiss me blossoms in the summer, lover. I want to taste the succulent sweet of your peach tree smile. This time let Adam take the fruit from the garden.

Surge into me as a downpour, as the pounding waterfall which makes swollen rivers flood, as the sea.

The happy ending to this night: you tug my hair and lightly brush your hand across my lap. Don’t forget how resilient I am and how I would bend for you.

Even my lungs are in love as we breathe together.

I don’t just want to take your breath away. I want to rip it from your mouth and keep it locked away between my teeth. You can only have it back if you kiss me again.

The gentle friction of your hand on my thigh is enough to strike a match inside me. I lean into your lips and the fire blooms and spreads.

You are an undiscovered continent. I trail my fingers down your mountainsides. Ten explorers digging for buried treasure, I want to take it all.

My body is a gospel and you are my first quivering hallelujah. Your breath leaves your mouth like a prayer and washes over me like faith.

My hands are hungry for your flesh, desperate in the way that rivers empty themselves over waterfalls.

I peel back your skin to see if we have the same scars. I follow the map of your veins back to your heart and press my palm against yours to tangle our lifelines.

I hope to breathe in you. I hope my body will be the blood your roots drink.

We commit sins in holy places, fold ourselves between pews like dirty pictures tucked into a bible. Pant each other’s names until they sound like scripture.

My tongue collides with your collarbone like a meteor careening across the cosmos, and I taste the stars you are made of.

You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.

You, benevolent god, legs splayed like instruments of creation. I, blank slate of the universe, kneel in wait for you to fill me with your hot, honeyed light.

My hands are suntanned tourists without a map whose desire compels them onward to explore your golden cities by the light of the stars.

The moment between your thighs where I become a devout follower of your existence. That hour which passes in slow seconds of soft skin, as I lay my head against you, drifting, drowsy with love.

Your grin is a flash of primal fire in the dark. Somewhere deep inside me, something hungry wakens and shifts, uncurls its insatiable tongue.

I have been thinking of how I want to be touched by you, with hands that will play me like piano keys, with fingers that will make a symphony out of me.

You till the soil of my need, my lips a blood-red flower bursting open with the first wet flush of your heat.

When it comes right down to it, all that nonsense about hearts syncing up feels like a hallelujah with our bodies pressed together like praying hands.

Every time, you peel back my skin, pry open my ribs, and feast on my insides. Every time, you make a meal of my heart, and every time, I let you.

You’re not one for poetry or sentimentality, so I’ll just say that I’ve dreamt of being the motor oil trapped in the grooves of your weathered hands.

I ache for your hum between my legs, the purring of motorcycles on winding highways: wind in my hair, and romance in losing myself to the sweet, revving vibration of the engine again and again.

You smile and it’s like sunrise. Something inside me Wakes up, stretching.

I float away in cool sheets against my burning skin, and you are the sea guiding me beyond the realm of earthly things.

My lipstick spills over your mouth and trickles down to your chin, your neck, pooling into your collarbones. We love like crushed grapes in wine country.

You’re kissing a wildfire up my thigh and I am tracing the landscape of your jawbone like a sculptor. My hands were made for this.

The rush you give me: The way a blade of grass must feel when splashed with a cloud’s cry after days of screaming for rain.

We are the fall of Rome, all fire and fighting. We collapse into each other like the pieces of the Parthenon, kissing like gladiators, loving like rebuilding.

You creep into my head like a river rushing for the sea & a cosmic digit of fingertips flash over me.

You are pressing against me like I press flowers against the pages in my book. You are kissing my neck and it feels like the start of forever. I want to touch you until my palms burn.

The wet of your mouth rains down my neck like frame, the soft heat of your tongue burns the apple in my throat. We are practiced at this love that asks angels to cover their eyes and turns devils shy.

I melt into the gentleness of your fingertips. Your tongue presses me open like the summer fresh flesh of a perfectly ripe fig, all juice, seeds and pulp.

The small of your back is refuge, is veldt, is summer heat. And I am predatory snarl.

I can’t brush out the taste of you; coffee breath, cigarette smoke, and all. Mouth to mouth; Our shared vices linger on each other. Your salt still lives in my tongue.

I’ll take you quiet as the bones in your closet, love as softly as a whisper. Holding your tongue like a secret.

You smiled and lit up like the dusk. I sank to your lips like the sun against the horizon. We made the day stand still.

I want to kiss you until you melt into me, ice turning to water. I want to drink you deep, and warm you from the inside.

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Sexual Sunday Headcanons

ϟ: How much does your muse value sexual intimacy?

✿: Does your muse find any value in sex? What value if any do they find in it?

♪: What factors and events shaped how your muse views sex and sexual matters? Were they influenced by other people or did their own experiences shape their view of it?

❤: Do they have any insecurities about sex?

❣: How comfortable are they talking about sexual matters? Do they have any problems discussing sexual things in front of strangers or acquaintances?

❥: Do they brag about their sexual prowess or the amount of sex they have? Why or why not?

✯: Do they talk to their partner during sex? Do they talk dirty? Do they whisper sweet nothings?

☂: Do they prefer having sex in one environment more than another?

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idk if i want to be sumia or cordelia in this context but aayyyy lmao 

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have some crappy sin images

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small smutty things… huhu

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Send me one pro and one con you could see with having sex with my character.

(anons welcome)

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nsfw / smut starters

“i want you to fuck me.”

“you’d look better with those clothes on the floor.”

“you feel so good.”

“i’ve been thinking about you all night.”

“i need you so bad.”

“take your clothes off.”

“fuck me like you hate me.”

“i need to feel you inside of me.”

“i need to be inside of you.”

“beg for it.”

“bend over.”

“get on your knees.”

“i love the way you touch me.”

“i love the way you kiss me.”

“how bad do you want me?”

“do you know how bad i want you?”

“you’re so sexy when you’re hot and bothered.”