#In the eyes of green

[hozaloza]

Ashlyn is a host/sub zero of this "virus" and the only way to stop it is to kill off the host of the infection.

....

Fire.

[doesephs]

win for traumatised individuals! local eldritch horror is here to rip it all out free of charge

[pop-video]

MUSIC VIDEOS THAT TURN 20 in 2025

[tumbler-polls]

Anon said: This one may be stupid but mine color-change so I never know

Feel free to tag your eye colour!

[neonlazycat]

feesh ;)

[ophelieverse]

“Visenya why aren’t we burning the dornishmen?”

[cronchy-baguette]

'cause when i see me through your eyes

i love me, so don't leave my side

[gummi-stims]

🪰Fly fursuit from crownedfeline on tiktok!🪰

[polartss]

doodle (🥺)

[splendidfemalelegs]

Amazing beauty but those eyes 😍😻😍😻😍😻

[lakesbian]

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[zegalba]

L’oeil d’Aramon designed by garden designer Pascal Cribier

[indra-sexygirl]

Because perfect beauty…

[frosted-leaf]

the three

[pangur-and-grim]

what’s happened now?? oh pangur….