#White Marble Home Temple

[sahestatellc]

White Marble Home Temple

The White Marble Home Temple by SAH Estate LLC is a stunning addition to any home. Crafted with intricate designs and premium quality white marble, this temple enhances your living space with elegance and spirituality. For inquiries, contact SAH Estate LLC at ☎ +971 54 340 3066 today.

[bhuvneshwarimoortiart]

White marble temple designed by Bhuvneshwari Moorti Art

Recently White Marble Temple work done at Bhubhneshwar,Odisha

Website: https://www.bhuvneshwarimoortiart.com/

Contact us: +91-8947967791

[marbletemples]

7 Reasons to Worship Sri Radha with Lord Krishna

Sri Radha and Lord Krishna were lovers and this Radha Krishna beauty is represented in the beautiful Radha Krishna marble statue. The act of worshiping them together holds spirituality and is not only physically fulfilling for the body but also for the soul.

Read more: https://www.marbletemples.com/blog/7-reasons-to-worship-sri-radha-with-lord-krishna

[ssmoortiart11]

7 Essential Tips to Maintain the Shine of a Marble Temple

Keep your marble temple sparkling with our 7 essential maintenance tips. Make sure it stays shiny for years with our easy-to-follow guide!

[avinashmoortiemporium]

Buy Radha Krishna Marble Statue at The Best Price

Get Radha Krishna marble statue from Avinash Moorti Emporium. Here, you will find more designs and sizes available.

Order now and get the best offer. . Contact us: +91-8963863782 . Shop now: https://www.avinashmarblemoorti.com/category/marble-radha-krishna-statue

[redcherrykook]

──── ๋࣭ ⭑ sleepyhead ! ( f )

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

↳ part of 𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ

❝ [ husband!Jungkoook universe] ¡! ❞

✎ summary: waking up in your husbands arms after the first night in the new house, lots of cuddles

note from cherry: first full (but short) fic of this universe! yay lmk what you think mwah

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

white cotton sheets have never felt this good. soft, feather like pillows that let you sink down into the graceful sleep that, according to your husband, a princess like you deserves.

sunlight, as powerful as it is, sometimes feels as though it's conscious- adjusting its blinding light to gently trace the lines of people, enlighten their beauty with the upmost compliment the world can offer, sun kissed. decorated.

Jungkook feels the butterflies run rampage within his stomach while the streakes of nature do just what he's longing to- kiss your features softly. cautiously presuming, his pointer runs the imaginary tracks on your skin, circling your cheek that's pressed against the creme pillow, up the bridge of your nose eliciting huffs of sleep, back down to the bow of your parted lips

"morning baby" he mutters, watching your eyelids flutter open in a dream induced haze, before you take to yawn out the remains, rub your eyes to register the arrival of a new day.

"mhh, morning kook" your groggy voice makes him chuckle, pressing a small rewarding kiss to your forehead- you've never been one to wake up fast nor happy.

"how'd you sleep hm? is the new house's feng shui to your liking?" he half jokes- knowing how seriously you took the lectures of his mother, how the furniture should be placed not to interrupt the positive flow of energy in a newly weds house.

It worked, at least you've never felt this comfortable. although that's likely due to the confines of your husbands muscular arms tugging you torwards his chest- it smells like home.

the raspy, morning tainted tone of his voice makes you rub your head into his shoulder, wanting to bathe in his comfort, his warm, domesticness.

"it's perfect. this bed was the best decision we ever made" you giggle, letting him thread his long digits through the tumbled mess of your hair

Silence settles, unlike a sleeping state, both of your eyes are torn fully open, focused wordlessy on the face of your lovers

the little scar and moles on his cheek call out to your lips, pecking each miniscule detail with the whole of your heart, his wandering hands lead up under your shirt to explore the skin of your back, pulling you to rest on top of him, pressed- almost melted into one by the closeness you share.

he chuckles warmly, rubbing the flat tip of his button nose against yours,

"hungry ma? I can make you breakfast if you want" he suggests, pulling a string of hairs away from the countours of your rosy cheeks

"mhm, that'd be great. we have to paint the living room today" the reminder makes him fake a small cry before resuming to his airy chuckles, trailing small kisses on your temple while ignoring how his stomach growls, indulging into your sweet attention further

"I'll do it. I know you hate painting, just look for furniture you want online" he responds, knowing full well it might take hours more to complete it. not that he cares, Jeon Jungkook would take it upon himself to do anything his wife asked for,

which is precisely why your thighs wrap around his torso as he carries you to the spacious kitchen, hands playfully squeezing at the cheeks of your rear, knowing he'll have to sit you down on the cool marble counter soon.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

matt sturniolo x reader

where the triplets and Y/N have a small 'coloring drawings date' back in Boston

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a chilly Boston afternoon, and the cozy kitchen of the Sturniolo triplets' childhood home radiated warmth. The black and white marble counter was covered in a colorful array of pencils and printed drawings ready to be filled in.

Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N sat together, each absorbed in their masterpieces, while an assortment of completed drawings, taped with pride, decorated the fridge nearby - just like the one back in Los Angeles, creating a gallery of memories they'd crafted every time they came to Boston.

Y/N was nestled close to Matt, sharing a single pair of earphones that played their shared playlist, mix of indie tunes, and a few songs that made them laugh as they lip-synced together.

Every so often, Y/N would pause her coloring just to press a gentle kiss onto Matt's shoulder or cheek, and every time she did it, Matt’s face would light up with a shy smile, his hand instinctively reaching over to brush her fingers, squeezing them lightly before returning to his coloring.

Across the table, Nick was squinting at his drawing, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he carefully filled in the skin of the pokémons with a vibrant mix of yellows, blues and purples. Chris, with a look of intense focus, was working on an abstract swirl of colors, occasionally nudging Nick to make him mess up just a bit, causing laughter between them.

"Hey, don't mess with my work!" Nick huffed, shielding his paper from Chris, shooting him a dirty look. "Fucking moron."

Chris snorted.

"Oh, come on, Nick, I’m just adding some flair to it!" He laughed, his tone playful, but he left Nick’s drawing alone, deciding instead to lean closer to Y/N and Matt, peeking at their work, accidentally hitting some pencils to the floor. "What are you two coloring over there?" He teased, a soft smile on his face as he watched Y/N and Matt too close, almost blending into each other, the identical maroon sweaters disguising who was who.

Y/N grinned, lifting her drawing to show a sunset over mountains, shaded in soft pinks and oranges.

"It’s our little Boston sunset for the fridge gallery."

Matt smiled brightly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand as he glanced at her drawing.

"It’s going to he the prettiest drawing in there, babe." He murmured, leaning down to place a quick, sweet kiss on her temple.

"You're so disgusting." Chris huffed, rolling his eyes playfully before going back to his own paper.

Y/N stuck her tongue out playfully in response, her eyes gleaming with a happiness that was contagious.

As the playlist continued, Matt and Y/N swapped colored pencils back and forth, murmuring softly to each other about which colors went best with the others.

After a while, Nick stood up, lowering his grey headphones, heading to the fridge, and scanning their growing gallery.

"Alright, let's see what new masterpieces we're adding today." Nick announced, carefully peeling off a piece of tape to stick Chris's vibrant butterfly next to his own pokémons drawing on the fridge door. "At this point, we’re not even gonna see the fridge anymore." He grinned, smoothing each piece into place with a bit of pride.

Without missing a beat, Chris turned to Matt and Y/N, an exaggerated impatience in his voice.

"C'mon, lovebirds, finish up so we can add your little sunset next to my work of art."

Matt scoffed, rolling his eyes as he passed a glance at Chris.

"If we’re being honest, yours doesn’t even deserve a spot." He muttered with a smirk, dodging Chris’s halfhearted swipe at him. "Oh, I'm gonna end you-"

"Boys, no fighting near the fridge!" Came Mary Lou’s voice from the couch in the other room. Both brothers froze, biting back laughter as they stood straight. Nick stifled a chuckle, sharing an amused look with Y/N, who shook her head at them all, her smile soft.

"Alright, Matt, focus." Y/N said, tugging him gently by his sweater sleeve to bring his attention back to the counter. "Before I finish this sunset all by myself."

Matt let himself be pulled down with a playful grin, settling beside her once more.

"Fine, fine." He relented, leaning in close, their heads nearly touching as they dove back into their coloring, whispering and swapping pencils as if the world outside didn’t exist.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

A/N: I had this idea after seeing Nick's stories yesterday, and I know it's an ass, but I liked the concept 😭✋🏻

[answer2jeff]

despite everything, we're here. ☘︎

summary — carmen is starved. his desire is violent, and his violence is desired. he needs you. despite his busy schedule, he makes time for you.

moot mentions: @carmenberzattosgf @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

warnings : slow start, SMUT (minors DNI), porn with no plot, slapping (f!receiving) brief public sexual encounter, fingering (f!receiving), hickeys, biting, hair pulling, desperate + rough sex, crying, choking, praise, degradation, ultimately passionate and loving. made this one for the true yearners.

the sight in the bathroom mirror of the restaurant is sickly sweet. carmen's hand sliding between the plush of your thighs, fingers caressing the soft inner flesh...it's enough to make your stomach turn and your heart pump with the same blood that's rushing to your boyfriends erect cock that's pressing against your ass.

your hands grab the corners of the white marble sink as you fall to pieces at the sound of carmen's voice against your ear, his breath feeling hot and wet. as the hand that once nestled between your quads moves up to the crown of your pussy, ready to rub your clit in slow circles, he uses his unoccupied hand to shuffle underneath your t shirt and grope the meat of your breast. he squeezes tightly, pinching your hardening nipple with his thumb and index finger. he relishes in the surprised, incoherent noises you make the faster he stimulates your clit and the firmer his hand grows on your tit.

god, how the two have you have been dying for a moment like this. sure, sleepy fucks in the early mornings before he would get ready for another long day at what was just barely becoming the bear were nice. his cock would just gently caress your g spot and only inch near your cervix when you were absolutely close. his lips would be pressing kisses into your temples his hand keeping your leg lifted so he could thrust into you while you were lying down. but you needed more. a risky fuck as your back ached from the uncomfortable standing position just didn't suffice. tonight was finally your chance to get what you, and what carmen knew in his heart you deserved.

your frustrated face in the reflection of the water stained mirror contorted by pleasure is enough to tell carmen what you need.

"you want daddy to take you home, baby?" he coos to you, brushing your hair out of your face and pecking the side of your flushed cheek. carmens hand withdrawals stubbornly from your pussy and his grip of your breast has loosened into a gentle touch. you know he's taunting you, but it feels so warm to be held like this, filthy and practically begging for someone to walk in on the two of you despite everyone going home for the night.

your mind is so crowded by the fantasy that awaits you in his apartment that you can only get yourself to nod desperately, babbling nonsense. carmen can only draw a few conclusions of "please," and "wanna feel you in me," but it's more than enough before he rushes you to the car.

waiting has always been difficult for you two. you're practically writhing in greed for his touch, the pool of arousal in your panties only getting more and more saturated as his hand rubs the inner flesh of your thigh. he's made it a point to give it a squeeze at every red light, almost as if he's saying "be patient, almost there." his cock hardens as flashes of everything he wants to do to you attack his mind. he clears his throat, simply wanting to savor all of this.

your face glows in the red light, hiding your blemishes and making your eyes pop against your soft skin. once it turns green, carmen makes the beautiful mistake of watching the color bring out your little moles and the lines around your smile that have grown from laughing until your ribs hurt with this man.

"carmen—" you urge him, tapping his bicep. he shakes the awe off and steps on the gas.

he laughs, embarrassed. the apples of his cheeks are turning pink against his fair skin. a hand reaches to cover his mouth.

"sorry," he bites his lip to stifle his chuckle, "you were distracting the driver."

"by doing what? i was just sitting here!" you banter back, shaking your head in pretend disappointment.

"exactly. that's all you had to do."

the way carmen practically shoves you into the crawl space that is his humble apartment is just borderline animalistic. it's sloppy and it's scattered. his hands roam from your face, traveling down to your waist, and grabbing the flesh of your ass as he has you walk backwards until you fall into the plush heaven of his bed. his lips feel like feather-light strokes against yours, battling with teeth and tongue until he pulls away impatiently.

he fumbles with the button of his pants, wiggling out of them and kicking them somewhere where he knows he'll struggle to find them in the morning. you're sprawled out on the mattress, your hair falling perfectly and your arms on either side of your head, hands balled up in excited fists. carmen drinks this image of you, unbuttoning your short-sleeved black uniform shirt you wore to work that day. your breasts look supple and tender beneath your black bra. his staring only lasts for a split second before he tears off your matching pants, pouncing for your neck and sucking reddish purple hickeys all over your spotless skin.

"finally," he exhales into your hair that smells like floral shampoo and cigarettes, "you've been bare for fuckin' weeks."

seeing your pretty throat completely untouched ate at him on the days he wished he could just pull you into his office, pushing all of his paperwork off the tiny desk him and Nat shared and fucking you right then and there. this is his chance.

"you know how long i've been waiting—" he interrupts himself to place another bruise of affection on the right side of your neck, relishing in the sound of your little giggles that melt into moans of flushed arousal.

"—to have you like this? huh, angel?" carmen grunts, lifting his head from the comfort of your shoulder. he grabs your hips, pulling you towards him and aligning the bulge in his boxers with your clothed, warm pussy. the way his rough hands treat you like you could break beneath him is so entrancing. this moment is so tender.

"i know baby," you comfort him, your hand grazing over his forearm.

"I wanna see you—wan..."

carmen is interrupted again, this time by the honest look in your eyes. the look that tells him you need him, and you're not willing to be sweet about it anymore.

"what's that baby? speak up."

now you've done it. there was no going back now.

"be good f'me n' take this off. now."

his tone changes. it's demanding. he pulls the strap of your bra, letting it slap your skin on the way back down. the small cry that leaves your mouth has him teetering to the edge even more. you listen, sitting up just enough so you could reach your arm behind you, undoing the clasp. it's slow and purposeful. you want carmen to ache waiting for you. blue eyes watch your every move intently, and his dick is so hard it fucking hurts.

"don't play this fuckin' game with me, sweet girl. you've been so good all week," carmen snatches the bra from your manicured hand, throwing it behind him.

"you've been so good lately. why start now, huh? you wanna piss me off, that it?" he pesters you, grabbing you by your chin with just 3 fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye. his grip is so strong you can't kiss him to shut him up.

"I—"

suddenly, he lets go of your chin. you think you're free to cause your typical bratty chaos...but the palm of carmen's then unoccupied hand meets your cheek with a slap the second you blink. it's enough to sting, and enough to make your pussy pulsate. he thumbs your bottom lip, probing around the exposed inner flesh of it with the tip of his finger.

"what's that? use your words. i know you can," he mocks your former words.

now his hand is wrapped around your throat, hardly squeezing. and before you can try to answer again and regain your dignity, carmens hand has already reached around your torso and flipped you over completely. the moment your red cheek meets the pillow, you've somehow grown even hornier than before with the knowledge of what comes next. carmen's thick index and middle finger probe at your slit. you arch your back in response, having your ass fully in view for him.

"wow," carmen praises you, gently removing your panties and letting them pool at your ankles, "didn't even have to ask you to do that."

he kisses the small of your back, reaching around and prodding his fingers into your mouth to lubricate them. before you know it, his digits are deep inside your cunt, caressing your g spot and warming you up for what you've been waiting for all this time.

"just fuck me already—" you whine impatiently before carmen starts to wrap your hair around his hand, giving it a tug to remind you of your place. your stomach flutters with horny butterflies.

"i'm gettin' there."

he's had enough. carmen's hand presses on your lower back to reduce the arch. he hovers over you, letting go of your hair and instead wrapping his hand around your throat again. this time, the pressure makes you nervous. his grip is stronger. his lips are barely against your ear as he begins to whisper.

"but since you wanna be the brat that you love to be," he presses into your neck even tighter, "despite both of us knowing you're a needy little slut who loves this, convince me."

your mind goes blank.

"convince you?"

"yes baby," he kisses the cartilage of your ear, "convince me." before you can think of your next choice of words, your lovers teeth are digging into your shoulder which is then soothed by a sultry kiss. god, you feel like you could cum right now from all of this, and you're not sure how carmen has held out for this long until you hear him shuffling to pull his boxers down.

"carmen—"

"nope," he aligns his dick with your pussy, his precum coating your folds as he teases your desperate cunt that is just dripping for him. the head of his cock slides up and down before rubbing circles near your clit. "wrong answer. try again."

you've accepted your fate.

"please," you cry hoarsely, "please daddy. i'll be so fuckin' good—just fuck me."

"good job baby girl." you can practically hear the amusement in his voice. you wish you could see his smug fucking face right now, but you know exactly why he has you in this position; so your pretty eyes can't weaken him again. "such a good girl for daddy, aren't you?"

you played his little game and you won him over. finally, he pulls your hips closer, slowly pushing his tip inside of you. you're so slippery with need that he has to be careful not to shove his length all the way in. the hand that was once around your throat smacks your ass as he starts with slow, deep strokes against your g spot. he grunts, feeling your hole tighten around his dick when he slows down. your face is pressed against the pillow again, and the grip of your hands on the sheets grows stronger the faster he pumps you.

"oh, oh fuck," that familiar whimper rings in your ears. there's your sweet boy, drunk by the heaven of your pussy. he's deep in now, sliding quickly and slamming you full the millisecond you feel empty again. every thrust brings out a louder, more desperate sound out of you.

"i fuckin' love you," he wails, chuckling as you struggle to say it back between sobs of pleasure.

carmen's hand sneaks underneath and presses on your lower abdomen as he continues fucking you senseless. it nearly kills you with pleasure. you're screaming his name as you feel your orgasm inch closer and closer. thank god you taught him that little trick.

"fuck baby—" carmen practically sobs, his chest heaving and sweat dripping from his forehead, "i'm so fuckin' close. you take me so well, like a good little whore."

his mumbles are nearly incoherent now, and hot tears prick at your eyes and fall down your face.

"i'm gonna cum, bear, fuck—" you groan into the pillow again with frustration. that tight feeling in your stomach and your pussy fluttering has already come.

"go on, cum on daddy's cock."

as if your souls had intertwined the way your bodies did, carmen cums inside of your warm pussy, crying out your name as white streams of his seed paint your walls. you reach your end just seconds later, being left completely destroyed and out of breath. just like he intended.

you nearly collapse before carmen catches you. you're on your back again, and his hands cradle your pretty face that's all hot and stained with tears. you can finally see his face again. he presses a kiss against your forehead before rushing to grab a towel, but you stop him.

"carm, wait," you whine. he comes back with an eyebrow raised, worried that you're hurt.

"what's a'matter, baby?" carmen soothes you, his hands grazing over your legs and massaging them once he notices they're shaking just the tiniest bit from how hard he fucked you.

"just missed your face," you coo, puckering your lips for a kiss.

he smiles, reaching down to kiss you back.

"missed yours too."

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

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[emsgwenstan]

Why not me?

Larissa Weems x fem reader {angst}

words: idk 2.5k?

warnings: language.

note: ok idek what this is, i haven't written anything in months because of burnout, so really just something i pulled from drafts.

“Don’t.” It was to the point; it was sharp and clear. I picked up my handbag, coat and gloves and evacuated the room as swiftly as possible.

Slamming the door behind me, I could feel its vibration, the loud noise echoing through the halls and corridors, just like every one of my steps down the marble stairs. Frustratedly, I rummage through my bag to find my car keys, desperately needing something to just go my way, I plucked them out and balled the abundance of jagged metal in my fist while storming across the cobblestone to reach my car.

The second I sat in the driver's seat, tears started to roll down my cheeks and my nose started tingling, I shove the keys into the ignition and reverse out of the staff lot before practically doing a burnout when setting off. Where to go now is the question. Where to go indeed. The only home I’ve ever known is nevermore, the safe place I retreat to when the outside world is far too cruel, when normies are unkind and when life gets too much.

Every possible place I think to go isn’t an option, they are all riddled with memories of her, there’s nowhere in the whole of Jericho that I haven’t been with her, the park benches and weathervane after getting hot chocolates on a sunny winters day, the local bookstore on a windy spring morning, the clearing just off the road in the woods on a gloomy autumn afternoon, or the empty fair ground on a cool summers night.

“Oh, you would love her y/n, she very pretty and quite the catch, she flatters me all the time and is very sweet-.” “Don’t.” The conversation plays on a loop, God why? Why wasn’t I enough? The trees reflections whipping across the windscreen seemed to become faster. “Goodness, can you believe she asked me? I haven’t been on a date in years.” She had said. “Help me find something to wear dear?” She asked, and, without question I did.

My grip on the wheel becomes tighter until my knuckles turn white and crescent shapes are imbedded into my palms. Did she not know? Didn’t she realize? Has she not seen the way I look at her? Before I drive myself out of the town ship I stop on the side of the road. I just sit there, I sit and cry for a long time, even as dusk falls and night comes, I sit and cry.

Many cars have passed my own, however none caught my attention until I heard one ripping down the road sounding like it’s going a million miles an hour, when it passed the brake lights almost immediately illuminated my skin and the tires screeched as it stopped, my brows crease in confusion until it reversed back alongside me. Quickly I came to realize who it was. Larissa.

Without second thought I tried turning my car on though it wouldn’t turn over, how bloody convenient. I looked to my side to see her get out and run to my door. “Shit.” I breathed. She reached for the handle and was stunned when she couldn’t open it a dumbfounded expression overtook her pale features. “Open the door.” She pleaded I didn’t look at her, I kept my eyes in front of me still trying to start the engine. “Darling open the door.” She begged, her voice cracking and muffled by the glass.

“Y/n so help me god I will smash this window if you don’t open the damn door.” Her accent became thicker as she yelled. I just wanted her to go away, I rest my temple on the headrest in defeat. For a moment it was quiet- too quiet, that was until I heard her door slam close. I peeled my eyes open and saw her wrapping a cashmere scarf around her wrist, immediately in rage I unlocked my door and stepped out. “What the hell are you doing!?” I seethed. “What am I doing!?” She asked incredulously unwinding the material. “What the hell are you doing!? Where have you been? I called you close to forty times with no answer, I thought you were hurt! I thought something bad happened!”

“Why do you care?” I spat, the bitterness rearing its ugly head. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my friend, of course I’d care!” There it was friend. Somehow that made it worse- another kick to the guts. “Yeah, ok.” I murmured, twisting around and pulling out my bag, closing the door and storming down the tar road. “Where are you going!?” She shouted. “Away, far away from you!” I bit back.

“Stop!” She growled frustrated and confused. I ignored her request and continued walking. “Y/n!… oh, for fuck's sake.” Her voice died in her throat as she came to the conclusion that I in fact didn’t care for what she had to say. Larissa threw down the scarf and started power walking towards me, her heals clacking hard against the ground, her stride quick and harsh. “Hey-… hey! Christ just stop.” She said exasperatedly reaching my shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I shrugged her off ripping out of her grasp. “Take the hint! Larissa, I’ve made it clear enough that I don’t want to be near you!” I yelled whipping around to face her. “What have I done? What is going on? You don’t do this- you don’t pull this kind of childish behavior; I expect this from a student not you of all people.” She reacted. “Thanks, truly.” I sarcastically remarked and resumed walking.

“Fine I’ll just follow you then.” She said as if she was one upping me. “Piss off.” I said starting to walk faster. “Tell me what is going on! Please.” She asked her voice a little calmer and more desperate. I once again ignored her. “Y/n. I’m not going to stop until you tell me what has gotten into you.” She said starting to slightly limp from the ache in her feet. “What has gotten into me?… what has gotten into me?” I stopped abruptly.

I spin on the spot facing her again throwing down my bag in the middle of the road. “You.” I said creeping towards her with my finger pointed towards her chest. “You have gotten into me!” I yelled. “Me?” She asked, her brows furrowing and voice shaking. “Yes you! Day in day out, I’m sick of it!” Larissa’s posture straitened and head slightly dropped to the side in question. “Can you elaborate?” She said her eyes flicking about showing her confusion.

“It would be my pleasure. Let’s start shall we. “I’m not sure where I’m going wrong, I just wish someone would want me.” Or “I’m not good enough.” Or “y/n, why doesn’t anyone fancy me? Is it because of this or that'…or some bullshit reason.” I started, quoting just a few things from her. “What? Are you annoyed now that I actually have someone who could potentially be interested In me?” She asked furiously.

“No, I’m annoyed because of how ridiculous it is.” I retorted. “Ridiculous?” She growled through clenched teeth. “Yes. Ridiculous. How many times was I there to say those things aren’t true? How many times have I reassured and helped you? How many nights did I spend being by your side trying to make you happy!?” I asked. “What are you getting at!?” She asked, her eyes wide and lips twisted. “Months… years actually! Listening to you talk absolute garbage about yourself and continuing to do so after me telling you I’m here! - and, and now… you’re settling? for some waitress who thinks you’re pretty?” I explained looking directly in her eyes.

Larissa recoiled and looked as if she had been slapped. “Tell me how you really feel.” She murmured crossing her arms over her chest. “Jesus Christ, get a grip! Are you that thick!? I’ve been tryi-” I began. “Don’t even start, what about you! As far as I’m concerned you don’t have a great track record in relationships!” She yelled, her anger taking over once again. “Just fucking listen!” I screamed, rendering her completely silent.

When I realized she had bit her tongue and no longer wanted to argue, I started to speak again in a more relaxed tone. “I haven’t spoken, been with or even looked at anyone else. I’ve said nothing, but I’ve tried in many ways to show you, to tell you… every single time you have had a problem, a bad day, needed help, needed comfort, who’s been there? Me. I have. I know you better than anyone and I’m telling you that, that woman isn’t for you.” I stated.

“Right. So, your jealous that you're not the one who’s getting the chance with her, is that what you're saying? Because I thought you would be happy for me, out of all people y/n.” She said quickly and bitterly. “No that’s not-” I try. “I’ve heard enough, you want to be left alone fine, go ahead.” She said rolling her eyes and turning around to walk back to her car. “Larissa.” It’s her turn to ignore me. Before she got too far, I reached for her wrist without thinking and stopped her.

“I am.” I said quietly, pulling her to turn back toward me. “Your what?” She asked back. “Jealous.” I express timidly, looking away from her but keeping the firm grip. “But not of you… of her… I’m jealous of her.” I said just above a whisper. I look back up, my gaze trailing from her shins to the hem of her dress, to the waist belt of her grey coat, to her neck, lips and face, her very confused face.

“I’ve tried to tell you… I’ve tried everything apart from actually saying it.” I said loosening the grip on her wrist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was? How hard it is to listen to you talk about someone else making you happy? Someone else who can see the side of you I’ve only ever wished to be privileged to see?” Larissa’s face dropped; her angered expression melted away as I continued.

“What?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” I said in the same level of tone, goosebumps forming over my body as a shiver made its way down my spine, right there I knew I ruined everything. I close my eyes and let go of her wrist, I could hear her take a step, but it wasn’t back towards her car, it was to me, my eyes snap open as I feel her entire body engulf mine, in all the years of our friendship we’ve never hugged like that. Not once.

Together we stood planted in the middle of the road not daring to move an inch, it felt like it lasted a lifetime but in reality, it was only a few moments. My head and my heart were reeling, so many emotions, so many feelings, so many memories, so many 'what ifs'. “Larissa.” I said into her chest. “I know.” Was the reply. “Let me say it.” I murmured, Larissa’s chest heaved and contracted deeply, she guided one of her hands to rest on my temple and forehead moving the fallen hair in front of my eyes. “Look at me… please.” She asked pulling back just a little.

I lifted my gaze to her eyes and held the lapels of her coat, smoothing them and giving myself time to breathe. “I…” I swallowed. “I, love you.” I said quietly, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “I have for so long.” I breathed, finally after God knows how long I finally said it, although my relief was short lived when I saw Larissa face slowly revert back to one of distain.

“This isn’t fair.” She said pulling away and taking a step back her brows furrowing and unable to look me in the eye. “What?” I asked in disbelief. “I-… I liked you for a long while y/n, but now you choose to tell me?” It took every inch of me to not cry immediately. "What are you saying?" I asked dumbfounded, feeling bile build up in my throat. Completely taken aback, I recoiled and was in such a state of disbelief that I turned around in utter shock, plucked my bag from the ground and resumed trekking down the road.

The whole world felt like water filled the atmosphere and I was drowning, my limbs felt heavy and the cold seeped into my bones, I heard her muffled voice call out to me, but it was far too late, the second I looked up a pair of headlights were set right towards me...

[sahestatellc]

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Which Type of Hanuman Statue is Good for Home

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[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober 2024 - Mirror Sex

Pairing: Kento Nanami/Reader

You stood in the bathroom, taking off your makeup and doing your nighttime routine. The office party had been an absolute bore and Kento was in a mood because of it. 

His coworkers were annoying, and they always did the thing where they passed sly comments of oh, that’s the wife? because he worked so much. They were always shocked that a grumpy, stoic man like him had someone waiting at home for him. 

You heard him sigh again as he entered the bathroom. His jacket was gone, sleeves folded and his tie loose. His face looked tired without his glasses hiding his eyes. 

“Darling-” He whispered, his forehead leaning onto your shoulder as he hugged you from behind. You hummed, kissing his temple and continued taking off your makeup. “Was it as awful for you as it was for me?”

“No, Ken.” You mused, “It was fi-ah! What are y-” Your words tumbled one after the other when you felt his hand snake up under your dress. “Kento!” 

“I hated every second.” He murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “I hate bringing you to them.” 

“Y-You wanted- You begged me t- Stop-” You stuttered as his lips moved across your skin. 

“Should I really?” He looked up from your shoulder, still kissing as he met your gaze in the mirror. You swallowed and shook your head. “Good.” He hummed, continuing but trying his best to keep his eyes locked on with yours. “Tell me how much do you like this dress…” 

“It’s my fav-” Your words were cut off with him harshly tearing it off of you. “Kento!” 

“I’ll buy you another.” His eyes were dark and his tongue dragged across your neck. Eyes never leaving yours.

Your knuckles were white, holding onto the marble counter because you’d never seen him this riled up after an office party before.

“Hated the way they looked at you- Look at what’s mine-” He growled, his large hands grabbing and groping your plush body. 

You stood in a lacy bra and cotton underwear. Mismatched. Because the bra went with the dress and who was going to see this underwear anyway, right? Kento loved you in everything, nothing, anything. From messy PJs to party gowns. You were his and there was bile in the back of his throat every time he remembered what his disgusting coworkers had been whispering. 

If that’s what I went home to, I’d never show up to work. 

I wonder how satisfied she is to be that clingy. 

Look at that dress.

God, did you see how she walks?

If that was my wife, I’d make her wear nothing but heels. 

It was constant. All night. And Kento was done. You were his. The ring on your finger was proof. The way you stayed by him should’ve placated him. And usually, your honeyed assurances would be enough to keep his composure. But not tonight. 

Tonight he was simply a man in desperate need to claim his woman. 

“I want you to watch yourself,” He said softly, doing your bra. It slipped down to your wrists and stayed there until he made you let go of the counter and pulled it away. Along with the tattered remains of the dress. 

You felt a little flustered at the command but nodded nonetheless. 

He pushed down your underwear and gently made you step out of them. Steadying you infront of the mirror again, he pushed up behind you. He was still very much clothed. 

“You know what I was thinking all night?” He leaned down to your ear, his very obvious boner pressing into the small of your back. 

“W-What?” You swallowed, the heat pooling in your stomach as you watched him rub his hands all over your body. 

“When all those cocksuckers were drooling over my wife-” His voice had an edge of warning to it, “I was thinking off all the way I’d take you when we got home.” You visibly gasped, your hold tightening at the counter. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my love?” He smirked, pressing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. “You always love it when I ruin you, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly, whispering a please, Ken- and one arm wrapped at your waist, playing with your nipples. Twisting and teasing them. You leaned back onto him with a soft moan, your eyes closing in pleasure and he warned you again. 

“Eyes on me, darling-” He said sternly and you looked with half-lidded eyes at him. He hadn’t even begun to do anything and you were already soaked with anticipation. His other hand was caressing patterns at your hip. 

Your breath was starting to shallow out. His hand started to trace away from your hips towards your cunt. You immediately parted your legs further for him. He mumbled a praise and his fingers ran through your slick folded gently. Teasing at your clit.

You didn’t even know it but as soon as your eyes fluttered close again, he stopped, making you snap your eyes open with a frown. 

Kento laughed against your neck. “I told you, darling. Keep. Your eyes. Open.” He punctuated each word with a swirl of his middle finger at your clit, making you grind down against his hand. “Good girl.” He rasped, his eyes dark and unwavering. “You’ll cum on my hand, won’t you? Or my cock? Maybe both?” 

“Don’t care as long as I cum,” You laugh breathlessly. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He huffed but was still amused. His fingers played with your clit and finally one finger dove into your sopping hole. You whined as he pushed in with absolute ease. He chuckled a little, pushing another finger in as well and you moaned a little.

“‘S better-” You mumbled, your hands moving back to tangle in his hair and holding his shoulder. Leaning back against him fully, trying your best to keep your eyes open. 

“Look at you…” He whispered. His middle and ring finger moving in and out of your cunt as the most torturous slow place. “That’s it. Riding my hand.” He kissed, licked and bit at your neck and shoulder. 

Even though he was moving so perfectly and curling his finger just right… But you were used to his thick cock and his fingers were simply not enough. 

“Ken- Please-” You whined, leaning forward, placing one knee on the counter. “No more teasing.” You almost glared at him, making him smirk. 

You shuddered a breath when you heard him undo his belt behind you. His trousers fell to the floor, his boxers pushed down until his thighs. 

“This what you want, pretty girl?” He rubbed his leaking cockhead at your cunt. You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. You inhaled sharply as he started to push into you. You closed your eyes for a second and he stopped. The cockhead just past your gummy walls. You groaned and opened your eyes again, forcing them to stay open, meeting his eyes. 

Kento's tongue dragged at the nape of your neck, pushing his cock further in. You breathed out softly. He could feel you throbbing around him. Once he bottomed out, his hands splayed across your body. One at your hip to make sure you stood steady on one leg and the other at your thigh that was propped up on the counter. 

“Look. At. You.” He pulled out and slammed back in with every word. You gasped and whined, your knuckles hurting with how hard you were holding the sink. You were surprised at how it hadn’t cracked under your grip yet. “So beautiful.” He growled and picked up the pace only slightly. 

You moaned his name like a prayer, soft, desperate and broken. You liked him like this. Desperate for you. Needing to have you whichever surface you were nearest to. 

You looked at him, his eyes were so dark, you could barely see the colour. His always-in-place hair was a mess and it was for you. 

He moved at a sickeningly deliberate pace and every deep thrust made your back arch for more. He knew what angle to go at to make sure your g-spot was kissed with every move. Your neck was blooming with patches of his bites and hickeys. They stung but in such a good way. 

He was still whispering in your ear. Telling you how beautiful you looked. How well you took him. This wasn’t Kento making love or even fucking. No, this was him laying his claim. His hand snaked down from your nipples and started to tease your clit again. You gasped and clenched immediately around his cock. 

This was the worst part of being married to him. He could undo you in seconds. He knew how. He’d learned your body too well. 

“I’m going to ruin you- then we’ll clean up and I’ll ruin you in our bed again.” He whispered between open-mouth kisses on your neck. You moaned for him, nodding, at least you think you nodded. You weren’t sure. The pleasure was overtaking you. 

You were so on the verge. The sink was digging into your stomach, your hands were pressed against the mirror, and you were only seeing yourself. How your tits bounced, how wrecked you looked, how Kento was holding your thigh up on the counter, how his other hand was swirling at your clit and oh- oh- 

You whined, cumming with his name and curses spewing out of your mouth. Obscene like a sailor and you squeezed so hard, Kento couldn’t help but join your pleasure. His hand didn’t let up, forcing your orgasm to prolong as much as possible. You felt his cum drench your gummy walls, dripping down your thigh. 

He was still making deep thrusts and the sounds were becoming even more vulgar. The slapping of skin mixed with the wet sounds of his cum. 

You gasped for air and he slowed to a stop but didn’t pull out. You leaned back, falling against him, exhaling a laugh that was somewhat a moan. 

“I need to keep you like this.” He said sweetly, kissing your temple, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Perfectly fucked.” 

Kinktober 2024.