#sara cummings

[nudesnoises]

Alessandro Casagrande

[jinxproof]

Sara Cummings | © Grayson Gunner

[saisons-en-enfer]

TR/ST - Iris

[joshwilkz]

[dinnickhowellslikes]

[sluttytoes]

[fictionadventurer]

Top five poets?

Gerard Manley Hopkins: The poet who got me back into poetry. His imagery and word-smithing are so impeccable that it sometimes makes me wonder if there are truly any other valid poets.

e.e. cummings: The poet who taught me to love poetry that requires analysis. Analyzing one of his poems for a class opened up poetry to me in a whole new way. The way that man plays with phrasing and structure and condenses so much into so little is endlessly fascinating.

James Whitcomb Riley: "When the Frost Is On the Punkin" was the first poem I ever found and loved on my own. To this day, I still like his folksy, straightforward style and impeccable sense of rhythm.

J.R.R. Tolkien and G.K. Chesterton: I didn't want to take up two entries with these two, so they share one. The more of Tolkien's poetry I read, the more I think he's vastly underrated as a poet--his sense of sound and rhythm is divine. And Chesterton can get a bit clunky at times, but when his poems work, they're as good as it gets--his imagery and rhythm and rhyme are phenomenal.

Sara Teasdale: Her poems tend to catch my attention when I run across them lately. They're nothing flashy, but I like her straightforward simplicity.

[itberice]

[scintillulae]

[black-is-no-colour]

Sara Grace Wallerstedt & Jess Maybury, photographed by Pieter Hugo and styled by Ellie Grace Cumming for Re-Edition Magazine N°11 Spring Summer 2019

[elezenenjoyer]

i want to get The Moment™️ TATTOOED ON MY BODY AHHGGG

[girlsbigones34]

Czech girl Melany Mendez has her Best, BBC scene with Piddle and DP.

Will Whitney and Kristof know how to free themselves in order to share a lot of fantasies together or with other people? CONTINUE...

[scintillulae]

[komitomi]

NSFW DRABBLE, MDNI! afab!reader x various genshin characters

♡ — fingering you until you coat their hands and fingers with your juices, pulling them out and licking your essence and groaning when the taste hits their tongue, 'so fucking yummy' they mutter before dipping their head down to eat your pussy like a starved person, lapping at your folds, nibbling on your clit, making you wince as you grip their hair tightly, they chuckle which causes vibrations to shoot up your body, it only took a few more minutes of them greedily devouring your cunt to make you cum once again, feeling overstimulated you push their head away, but they remain firm and continue licking away.

“We've only just begun, darling.”

Kaeya, Childe, Ayato, Abyss!Aether, Alhaitham, Tighnari, Raiden Ei, Yae miko, Sara, Lisa, Jean, Abyss!Lumine, Ningguang, Beidou.

[aemondfairy]

Delicate

summary: On a dreaded night out with Aegon to forget his past, Aemond finds himself thinking of a future with you.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Stripper!Reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, brief mention of drugs, sex work, dry humping, lactation kink, slight mommy kink, handjob, cum play 18+ MDNI

note: Tbh, idk what urged me to write this, (it was the photo of Ewan on the couch with the leopard print carpet) but shout out to Aegon for being a good wingman 🫡 I have a part 2 planned but only if people are interested

Aemond Targaryen was never a fan of strip clubs. He viewed them as not only a waste of time, but a waste of money. Spending ungodly amounts on overpriced, watered down drinks. Just so some girl who pretended to be attracted to him, could dance on him for a couple of hours. He always left feeling impure while glitter and the scent of cotton candy body spray clung to his clothes. It just wasn’t his thing, he had better ways to spend his time. And yet, he found himself getting ready to go to one now, on a Tuesday night. With his heathen of a brother and his immature friends. What had become of him?

You’re on the opposite side of town, also getting ready for the evening. Hot steam and the scent of coconut invigorates your senses as you’ve just finished taking an ‘everything’ shower. You’re scrubbed to the bone, freshly exfoliated, shaved, and now lathering vanilla scented lotion onto your skin when your phone buzzes. Aegon Targaryen.

Aegon was your typical rich, spoiled, frat boy who frequented the club you worked at. Over the years he had become something more of a friend than a customer. He would sometimes bring you food, or weed, or a pack of cigarettes. He had even come to your defense when certain men would over step boundaries with you.

He was a good customer, gave a lot of money to the club – and to you. He wasn’t exactly your type but there was no denying he was attractive.

you workin tonight?

depends who’s asking 😈 jk … u know where to find me 💋

perfect. and not for me 😢 have a guy who needs a distraction. wear smth expensive!

oh? 👀🤨

money talks baby

yeah yeah 💸💦

It’s a rainy Tuesday night, you’re not sure why you agreed to pick up a shift in the first place. But you could use some extra cash, and your daughter is at her dad’s this week.

Even though the club you work at is one of the busiest in Kings Landing, you anticipate it to be an uneventful evening. Aegon coming in changes things, maybe you’ll have some sort of fun, and at the very least someone to talk to.

It’s just you and two other girls working tonight. There are three men sat around the stage as Floris dances, and Sara is occupied with a private dance in the back. As you predicted, a pretty slow night. You have the bartender make you a drink. You sit and tap on the glass waiting for some action when Aegon finally shows up.

He has a decent sized group of guys with him, most of which seem to already be under the influence. In order to not appear desperate you wait for Aegon to come to you.

“Lookin’ good, girl!” he calls, leaning in to hug you, “and you wore expensive perfume, that’s a good girl,” he flirts as he slides you a $50 bill, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him.

“Is this for… your friend?”

“Not a friend,” he states proudly, a devilish grin on his face, “my brother.”

You look past Aegon to the group of guys he sauntered in with, and then you spot him. A tall, lean guy with hair the same shade as Aegon’s; except his is much shorter, and styled neatly. He’s aimlessly scrolling his phone, barely looking around. You notice he has a pack of Marlboro Menthols in his hand. With a cool demeanor and a jawline chiseled to perfection by the Gods themselves, you are in for it.

He resembles Aegon for sure, though he is much more handsome.

“Gods, there’s two of you,” you groan jokingly.

“Actually, there’s four of us,” Aegon corrects, “but one’s sixteen and the other is a girl, our sister.”

Aegon hardly ever spoke of his family and when he did it was never in detail. All you knew was they were toxic, full of drama, lacking love, and filthy rich.

“Right. Well, what do I need to know about this one?”

“That’s Aemond. Go easy on him, will you? He’s a major nerd, hates all things fun, and the club isn’t really his scene — total opposite of me,” he notes, “but he’s been hung up on this older woman and I need him to get under someone else to get over her.”

You raise your eyebrows at him a second time, unsure of what you’re getting yourself into.

“What can I say? We’re a complicated bunch, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right princess?”

You giggle at the pet name and he grins before he smacks you hard on the ass.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

You glance over in Aemond’s direction again, now he sips on an old fashioned, his grip tight on the glass while his expression remains unreadable.

You decide to head to the back to quickly freshen yourself up. You’ll need to mentally prepare yourself before sinking your paws into Aegon’s sexy-as-hell younger brother. You brush out your curls, pick away any dried mascara from below your eyelids and generously apply more perfume. Baccarat 540, it was expensive, thank you very much.

You take a large sip of your own drink before you saunter your way back out front and over to the table where he sits.

"Hey! You look like you could use a friend" you purr, “can I offer you a dance?"

Aemond looks over to Aegon who is giving him a thumbs up before looking at you. His eye scans your body.

"Um, yeah,” he finally responds, swallowing thickly, “yeah, you can.”

This time he smiles as he checks you out.

"You wanna go somewhere more private?" you offer in a whisper, motioning to one of the closed off rooms, "ya know away from prying eyes?"

"Sure," he replies and your perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his wrist, dragging him to one of the rooms. Once you’re alone, tucked away behind the velvet curtain, he takes it upon himself to take a seat on the leather couch.

“So how does this work?" he questions nonchalantly, taking a large sip of his old fashioned.

“You’ve never gotten a private dance before?” you ask him and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Oh, well, I’m flattered,” you giggle, taking a seat next to him, feeling him out.

“Well, while we’re in here,” you say as you place your palm on his leg, “I’m all yours,” you smile.

“All mine, huh?”

“That’s right,” you soon come realize that Aemond isn’t even sure what he wants. You take a large sip of your drink, finishing it off in one gulp.

You discard your empty glass and slowly straddle Aemond’s lap, refusing to break eye contact as you move your body to the rhythm of the song the booms through the speakers. Your palms glide over his lean chest, teasing and tantalizing as you continue to sway your hips. Aemond keeps a firm grip on the couch, his hands not leaving his sides. You reach down and take them in yours.

“You can touch me, you know. I promise you won’t break me,” you encourage, guiding his hands up your body.

His hands are cold as they run up and down your stomach, but they cause a fire to ignite inside of you. His touch is more gentle than what you’re used to. He uses his thumbs to swipe over the sheer fabric of your bra against your nipples. You gasp under his touch but he quickly removes his hands from you, yet you feel his cock grow harder underneath you.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, your hands flying to your breasts, instantly feeling two damp spots there. Fuck.

It’s something you know is inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. All of your regulars are already aware of your situation, but with someone new and unsuspecting, it’s an uncomfortable conversation. You’d found a lot of men are actually turned on by it, but there is always that chance that the current one won’t be.

“I – I’m so sorry. I don’t usually confide this, Aegon knows… but uh, I have a one year old who’s still breastfeeding.”

Aemond appears to be at a loss for words. You need to get up before he can reject you himself.

“Let me just—” He stares at you intently as you’re about to remove yourself from his lap. He is definitely caught off guard by your confession, but not in the negative way that you think.

“That’s no problem,” he says huskily as he composes himself, “you stay right here.”

His gaze is piercing as he keeps his hands firm on your hips, the cool metal of his rings digs into your flesh as he holds you in place in his lap.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” you mutter back to him, feeling relieved.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he tells you, the bulge in his pants evidently harder than it was earlier.

You study him carefully, there is a hunger in his eye that wasn’t there before, even moments ago. It’s as if his entire demeanor has changed. You figure you can use this to your advantage.

“I don’t usually do this, but I’m making an exception,” you tell him as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. You shimmy it off your shoulders and let it fall to the dirty floor.

“Because I’m Aegon’s brother?” he asks.

“No, because …. I want to.”

It was true, you didn’t normally get this intimate with customers, but something about Aemond was drawing you in.

Aemond’s eye widens as you reveal your glistening nipples to him. You squeeze at your breast lightly, grinding yourself into him, and he rewards you with a moan. your thumb around your nipple, gathering some of your milk onto it before rubbing it along Aemond’s lower lip. He eagerly accepts it into his mouth, sucking it harshly, nipping at your fingertip.

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, releasing your thumb before leaning forward into you. He smells good, expensive cologne and nicotine. His lips find their way to your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. His fingers ghost down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You arch into him, wanting more.

He continues to move at an agonizingly slow pace, taking his time with you as his lips make their way from your throat down to your chest. Your breath hitches once his tongue finally comes in contact with your nipple, lapping at the droplets of milk there. He takes your flesh into his mouth, gently suckling, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Your mind is going hazy as arousal leaks from your core, so you grind down harder on him, attempting to ease the ache between your legs.

Aemond continues to suckle at your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he drinks from you with ease. His eyes are closed, his mind completely lost to the sensation of you in his mouth. Your body trembles against him and he feels it, your small whimpers and moans urging him on.

He pulls away slowly, and you wince at the loss of contact. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses across your skin as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You lean back, positioning yourself so that you have access to the button of Aemond’s jeans.

“Can I?” you ask.

He nods his head eagerly, unbuttoning them for you and yanking the zipper down with quickness.

You slip your hand inside, beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and wrap your hand around his length, tugging gently as your free hand flies to the back of his head, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

Your hand slides at a steady pace against his shaft, squeezing gently. His thick veins pulsing underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck, M-mommy,” he moans.

Your eyes widen at his choice of words but they stir something sinister inside you, and what Aegon told you earlier rings in the back of your mind: “he’s been hung up on this older woman.”

It all clicks.

You kiss him soft and slow for a moment before pulling away.

“You wanna be a good boy and cum for mommy baby?”

“Yes! I’m — I’m good,” he stutters, rutting himself up into your palm.

Your hand works quicker as he finds himself back at your chest. Drinking from you like a man starved.

A few more languid pumps of his cock and he’s trembling beneath you. Shooting thick, pearly ropes into your hand. You move your hand down lower to cup and squeeze at his balls for a moment before bringing it back up to your mouth, licking away the salty remnants as Aemond shoves his cock back into his pants.

As if right on schedule, the timer you set on your phone to keep track of the time goes off.

“Well, looks like our time’s up,” you say with a frown.

“Looks like it,” he replies and the air swells with tension.

You turn to leave, hoping to give him a moment to gain his composure and get himself together but he yanks at your wrist.

“Wait! Let me take you out!” he blurts out at you, “on a date, a real one. Please.”

You bring your hand up to wipe a smudge of your lipgloss from the corner of his mouth.

“This was paid for, ya know?” You say empathetically and his eye darkens. Great. You’ve offended him.

“I know that,” he says sternly, “It’s just, I want to take you out. Please. Just one date.”

“One date,” you repeat.

“Yes,” he assures, his good eye gleaming.

“Okay.”

Something else you don’t usually do, date customers. These Targaryen’s are giving you a run for your money.

You give Aemond your phone number and you let him add his to your phone.

“I will text you,” he promises before he goes to exit the room. You follow him out and watch as he makes his way back to Aegon who is bright eyed and clapping at his brother.

You make eye contact with Aegon and he mouths something to you that you are unable to decipher.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[honeykaes]

— 𝐈’𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐢𝐢

✦ breeding their beloved god (yandere sagau!) feat. itto, diluc, scaramouche, ayato

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, everything is consensual, religious/cult themes breeding kink, creampies, yandere tendencies,  monsterfucking adjacent (itto), size kink (itto), cumflation (itto), dick piercing (itto), semi-public (diluc and ayato), power play (scaramouche), cockwarming (scaramouche), sadist (scaramouche), kinda hate sex (scaramouche), bath sex (ayato), dumbification (ayato), overstimulation (ayato), implied degradation (ayato and scaramouche), unedited

Itto is probably the acolyte that most recently discovered you. Growing up, he wasn’t all that interested in the Creator, after all—what Creator would have people throw beans at him of all things? It wasn’t until recently, seeing your face in person when the Shogun introduced you to her land, that he realized he had been wrong this whole time and he will do nothing to stop atoning for his prior disbelief.

Whenever he would see you out, he managed to find you thanks to the rest of the Arataki clan, regardless of which high official you were with. This has granted many enemies he knows of, like Sara, to enemies he doesn’t realize like Ayato. Still, telling jokes and eating his favorite snacks with you is what he absolutely lives for. He is your obedient oni willing to go to jail time and time again if that means he can see your smile.

He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, cock pulsating and throbbing as he gulps to try to soothe his dry throat when your legs are splayed out to him—in the shabby, crackling shack he calls his home. He continuously swirls his tongue in his mouth, etching every sweet taste of your cunt in your memories before finally trying to push the tip of his cock inside of you.

Itto feared you would despise the inhuman curves and ridges of his cock, but you simply grabbed onto the sheets of the futon as he struggled to push his fat cock inside of you. He tries kissing every tear that drips from your eyes, feeling his stretch you out further and further as he pushes his way inside of you—the bulb of his length firmly nudging against your cervix wishing nothing more to push even further inside—body shivering from the cold metal from his Prince Albert piercing.

And even though he can’t fit, you’re shocked to feel your legs hooked on his arms as he proceeded to jam his cock inside of you over and over sharp teeth gazing over your neck. Even the oni teared up feeling your insides cave in, squeezing tight against his ridged cock. He can finally repent for being a disbeliever as you cry out his name repeatedly feeling him graze over the most sensitive parts inside of you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head feeling his heavy balls empty themselves inside of you, a thick river of cum already beginning to stream down onto the damaged wood. Setting you down, he could only laugh patting the bulge in your belly—pressing it down to watch more of his cum drooling out of you.

Maybe if you accept his repentance, onis could truly be loved as you do him.

Diluc was motionless when he realized you were his beloved God. He remembered going to church with his father when he was young, hearing the gospel and the glories you brought to them. Those stories were the only thing giving him hope, like a lone flame in his life of darkness once he lost his loved ones. And here you are, confused, and oh so innocent from the atrocities of this world.

He was the one you would stay with at Dawn Winery as he made it a mission to make you feel like absolute royalty—the uncrowned King of Mondstadt wouldn’t have it any other way. Some of his favorite things to do were listen to your day as the two of you ate dinner. Hearing your stories of exploring the manor and asking about his past, always made the usually brudish man smile…that is until he began hearing that others, like that bard and his cursed brother, visit you.

He hated how quiet he would get after that, sipping his grape juice and pondering how he could deter anyone from ruining the sanctuary he’s made here with you, the heaven that he rightfully deserves after years of suffering. 

Dinners became much more interesting when his fingers plunged inside of you, as your body lay out on the luxurious grand table. His digits exited out of you, coated with your slick before he unbuckled his pants and pressed his tip along your folds—slowly entering inside of you. His eyes could only widen in delight as you pulled him closer to you, your legs wrapped around his hips to bring him closer and cock plunging itself inside of you. 

He didn’t care if his staff saw. He didn’t care if his regional God even walked in. All he cared about was connecting your soft lips against his, rutting into you like a madman and savoring the heaven you had given him. 

He could hear your muffled moans against your lips as his hands woved themselves with yours, placing them high above you on the table. He continuously ground himself against your aching clit, feeling your gummy walls flutter themselves against him. Even as his hips bucked, hot cum spurting out inside of you, he finally parted your lips—a string of saliva connecting you two—before brushing his lips against your nape. 

Please let him have more time in Eden, with his beloved. That’s all he asks for.

Why should he worship you, the Creator when all of his life has been suffering? Seeing you in person rattled the puppet, his body trembling in anger. Why are you looking at him in adoration? Weren’t you the reason why he could never have a heart, why one of your devolved followers, Raiden Ei abandoned him like a toy? As much as he hated to admit it, he so desperately wanted that look of want that you gave him.

Still, Scaramouche tried to avoid you left and right, but he always managed to come back eventually. He tried pushing you away with yours instead but seeing tears threaten your eyes was enough for him to succumb and apologize, holding you tight in his arms. He hated you…but he loved and craved you. How did this make sense? Maybe he was truly a faulty creation.

From this point on, Scaramouche began to travel with you claiming he was simply “protecting the creator” in an attempt to understand his feelings for you further. He couldn’t help but be irked seeing everyone worship and praise you or even seduce you. Wasn’t his feelings for you enough? Couldn’t you just be satisfied with that?

The frown on his face always curved into a smirk as you clung tightly to him, cock buried inside of you as the Ballader mockingly patted your back. Something was so thrilling to have the object of everyone’s admiration struggle not to cum by his orders. He could only shush you with a cruel smirk, feeling your inside clutch and try sucking him in further.

He pinched your cheek, causing a whine to erupt from you before snapping his hips up causing you to yelp. It was so utterly adorable to him, watching your lip quiver as he ground you against him trying to encourage him to finally plow inside of you. He chuckled, hand weaving around to pitch your throbbing clit instead, pulling on it as you cried out for him again before rubbing tender circles on it as your slick stained his fingers.

Suffer a little more, before he’s ready for you. It’s what you deserve for what you put himself through. Come on, tell him that he’s your favorite little doll already.

It was mere child’s play to convince the Shogun to let you stay at the Kamisato residence, after all, he and his little sister had proven time and time again how loyal they were to you. There was something about walking you through the halls of his estate, your timid smile trying to convince him there was a mistake about you being God was enough to almost let his inner mind slip just how cute and small you were to him.

Ayato knows better, studying who the Creator was and how to best serve them, but he couldn’t help but want to test theorize for himself—test if you were truly worthy of his worship. Seeing you pass every trial with a determined smile, made his heart truly flutter in adoration. He, out of everyone, knew it would be a matter of time before you got a concubine from the endless list of your devoted followers. So he was determined to be the one to seduce you first. 

It was rather easy getting you flustered. Simple touches here and there. Leaning in close to see if you’d finally close the gap between you two. Things were much slower than he would’ve liked, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do. Even as he sits in the hot spring baths, all he could do is sigh continuously strategizing before he heard the doors open.

Everyone knows this is the time the lord takes his bath, it’s in his schedule. When lavender eyes made your gaze, his lips could only curl up into a smirk. He would finally reap the benefits of this long political game he had set out to win.

Having yourself pinned against him, the warm, very shallow swatters of the bath—clit burning in overstimulation for his fingers continuously toying with it no matter how many times your body came in pleasure. His cock thrust inside of you rapidly, your legs propped up on his wide shoulders letting him rut even deeper inside of you.

He couldn’t help whispering how it was unbecoming of a god to cave into their lust as you did, but he would continue worshipping you despite your falls feeling your walls tighten, and back arch as you came yet again from him. Finally letting a groan out and cum inside of you, cock pulsating inside of you as it finally became to soften. 

A dark chuckle escaped him, pressing his thumb against your glossy lips, wiping the drool threatening to drip down. 

Aww how cute. It seems his precious God forgot their name.