PLAY AT YOUR OWN RISK.

RELIGUN'S NSFW SIDEBLOG.

[hotvillain]

sender makes receiver suck on an unloaded gun. — @m0tel, as dean winchester.

it doesn't happen in an instant. first, it's a couple drinks, a dive bar down the road, mari's hand crawling up his thigh— tease and lick and grind before they even make it into the car. then, it's a shot of tequila on entry, dean's hands grasped around her waist, her palm groping at the exterior of his jeans. (is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?) eventually, all that kiss and touch and whine got her nestled between his knees. kneeling on the motel room floor. naked in front of a man who's still got his pants on. she doesn't mind.

he used to be all romance. lapping sweat from her collarbone, crooning pretty words, letting her run the show to distract from how life ran him ragged. but something changed in all those years apart; he got older, maybe wiser, but darker, too. something rotting and angry sitting in the adam's apple of his throat. willing to do what a younger dean would not.

he still double-checks the chamber to make sure there's no bullets, (a duty of care, a reminder of kindness,) but he tucks that barrel between her lips and says the word suck like it's as simple as tying a cherry stem. so, she does, because for all those years of soft and simple, she's still got something twisted tucked between her legs. wet at the very implication of danger. mari squirms, pushing two fingers into herself to grind downward as she sinks her mouth an inch further onto the gun. and had she been a few years younger and a touch more intoxicated, she might've even told him to load it.

[hotvillain]

sender tilts receiver's head up to watch tears gather in their eyes. — @chyremn, as castiel.

with castiel, it's become routine. whether prayer, devotion, or desire, the familiarity of cheap motel carpet has scratched against her skin more times than she can count. scrubbed her raw of any kind of sin. it's a place that she's found comfort in. somewhere she can relieve the ache of control. she calls, he comes, she kneels, he delivers— her open-mouthed invitation leaving spit stains in her wake.

tonight, the buzz of the motel sign outside is the only thing that sings the way she does. muffled and electrified, it's the kind of vow only truckers and roadside patrons know. still, mari likes to think of their kinds of acts as holy. the headboard, a cross. his word, her bond. her pink-flushed cheeks as a memory no saint could ever live up to.

there's drool draping the outer rim of her lip while his hips snap. sunk to the faint fuck of her throat, it's all saliva and silent tears— hands clasped behind her back with the diligence of a soldier. the hunger of a god. castiel's touch is faint, barely a suggestion, but it carries the force of a command as mari's head tilts upward.

her lashes wet as she blinks, dark gaze set onto him without fail. she pulls off of him with a pop, tears gathered to the corners of her eyes. another blink, and she licks up his length. nuzzles against his thigh. "cas." whined, barely a murmur, but her voice carries against his skin. "let me use my hands." a flutter of her lashes, and glassy eyes set upon him once more.

[absolmemes]

☾ kinky action prompts.

some prompts exploring kinks, fetishes, and other inclinations. mature audiences only; do not interact if you are a minor. add +reverse to reverse the roles. combine prompts by sending multiple at once. only use these prompts to portray consensual scenarios.

✧ sender lightly traces patterns on receiver's skin with a knife's spine. ✧ sender brings a blade just shy of receiver's skin to raise tension. ✧ sender holds a knife to receiver's neck. ✧ sender presses the chilled flat of a knife against receiver's skin. ✧ sender draws small scratches on receiver's skin with a knife's tip. ✧ sender makes receiver watch while they sharpen their knife. ✧ sender slaps receiver with the flat of a knife. ✧ sender penetrates receiver with a knife handle. ✧ sender snips through receiver's underwear / shirt. ✧ sender cuts receiver's shirt into tatters. ✧ sender uses a knife to cut away the rope binding receiver. ✧ sender makes receiver suck on an unloaded gun. ✧ sender penetrates receiver with an unloaded gun. ✧ sender holds an unloaded gun to receiver's head during sex. ✧ sender verbally taunts receiver into crying. ✧ sender tilts receiver's head up to watch tears gather in their eyes. ✧ sender cups receiver's face and wipes each tear as it falls. ✧ sender overstimulates receiver until they cry. ✧ sender edges receiver until they cry. ✧ sender gags on receiver during oral until tears spill from their eyes. ✧ sender teases receiver until they are desperate enough to cry. ✧ sender slowly counts down, giving receiver a head start in a chase. ✧ sender forces receiver to their knees after the chase ends. ✧ sender tackles receiver to the ground and pins them there. ✧ sender wrestles receiver and straddles them after a brief chase. ✧ sender stalks receiver in slow circles, waiting for them to run. ✧ sender chases receiver through the woods / an abandoned building. ✧ sender shoves receiver across open ground to make them run again. ✧ sender corners receiver in a dead-end hallway. ✧ sender tracks down receiver using the sound of their breathing. ✧ sender pins receiver's wrists with one hand and holds their throat with the other. ✧ sender uses their forearm across receiver's throat while keeping them pinned beneath their weight. ✧ sender drags receiver into their lap and tightens a chokehold from behind. ✧ sender tightens their hand at receiver's neck just as they're about to climax. ✧ sender drives receiver against the wall in a rough tackle. ✧ sender wrestles free of receiver's grip and shoves them onto their back. ✧ sender overpowers receiver in the struggle. ✧ sender yanks receiver by the hair to steal control. ✧ sender ties receiver's wrists above their head. ✧ sender fastens handcuffs around receiver's wrists. ✧ sender secures receiver's hands behind their back with a firm knot. ✧ sender ties receiver to a chair and spreads their legs apart. ✧ sender adorns receiver's chest and arms with elaborate ropework. ✧ sender changes rhythm abruptly to keep receiver from climaxing. ✧ sender holds receiver still and refuses to let them finish. ✧ sender removes all contact and watches receiver struggle with the sudden absence. ✧ sender forces receiver to beg for their release. ✧ sender brings receiver to the edge multiple times before finally letting them finish.

[hotvillain]

alive when she's wanted, dead when she's not: leon threads his hand through her hair, and it feels like a gun to the temple. a knife to her throat. hot and heavy, dangerous and decadent ... violence and sex blending into one. his hips press against her, whimpers muffled against the base of his length— and her hand travels between thighs. it's damning. (the fabric of her panties, soaked. a twitch of her hips, desperate. the pink of her knees, still pressed against the floor.) he fucks into her mouth like a man, possessed. she blinks up at him like a god, dethroned. any divinity stripped, all inhibitions gone, they're nothing but animals, now.

it's raw, brute pleasure. a hasty, desperate need to tear each other apart. he pulls her off of him, spit-dripped and drool-shined, and mari wastes no time in offering him another place to fuck. another hole to fill. her dress inches up her thighs as she flips: face pressed against the rug, back arched to the ceiling, legs spread to invite him in.

[hurried.] sender hikes receiver's clothing just far enough to push inside of them. — @soloperative, as leon kennedy.

he hikes her dress up, she pushes panties to the side; a glance back, shared, times with the initial thrust in. her mouth parts, shameless with sounds, stringing cusses and whines into a near-slurred state. still aching with the stretch, mari fucks back into him, pulls the bottom of her dress an inch higher, and tugs the top of it a few inches down. her fingers twist at her own nipple, and she pushes back until leon's hips are flush, again. "you don't— " she squirms, gasping. "—have to be so gentle."

[chyremn]

they sit heavy within him now ; those prayers from a long time ago, prayers whispered into tear-damp pillows, into folded hands, into the dark of the night, the ones that went unanswered - angels passing her by, not out of malice, but indifference. a kind of unforgiving cruelty heaven never named as such. and castiel, he carries that knowledge with him. when he promised never to ignore her again, he meant it, with every fragment of will inside him. what lies beneath is proof of that promise now ; mari spreadeagled before him, under him, goose-bumped and shivering as careful hands drag across searing, soft skin. mouth against flesh, slick with lust.

and all of this, his body here, his breath against her, is all for her. no one else. this is all about mari.

fingers remain entangled within dark tufts when he releases himself from her - letting his own curl around her wrists in a gentle grip, catching them, guiding them upward. placing them on either side of her head, keeping them against fabric ─ mari whines, and castiel reassures. ' i'm here. ' angel soothes, ' i hear you. ' slit weeping, untouched and hard between them. one hand lets go of her wrist, own form shifting slightly above as he takes himself in his hand. thick of the head rubbing against the spot where his thumb used to be, before sliding down ; softly pressing against needing flesh, slowly sinking into it. stopping just beneath the tip. lingering there.

it prompts her mouth agape, so castiel moves his hand again, placing the warmth of his palm softly upon her flushed cheek. another shift, thumb pressing against bottom lip, coaxing her to open wider. watches as the other takes it inside, mouth closing around it.

' i've heard your prayers, ' he says, ' they've been loud lately. ' he removes it then, slowly, stroking the spit-coated finger across her cheekbone, then down, across her chin. ' raw, ' castiel continues, ' needing. very human ─ very beautiful. ' he moves, hand returning to her untenanted wrist once more. keeping her pinned and grounded as he sinks himself further into her, lids fluttering shut as he disappears deeper ; grace humming faintly beneath angel's borrowed skin at the devastating pleasure of it. and then, a promise, ' if this is what you need, i will give it to you. '

[hotvillain]

the scene paints in color: winged words, electrified prayer. neon crosses, faithful pleasure. nothing but holy vows and hallowed names, by the time he sinks into her. she's grace-bitten up to her neck. celestial-winged as he pushes her to flight. some sacrificial lamb, saved from the slaughter of life. (who needs god, when she has an angel? who needs prayer, when she has this?) castiel fucks into her, hands pinned to her cross, and mari knows nothing more than how to take it. her body willing. her mind open. her thighs, trembling with need.

"please," mari says, and it sings across her lips like prayer. strings around her neck like rosaries. something devout and dangerous and damning, all at once. her hips squirm beneath him, attempting to inch him further inside, wrists twisting in place— but not fighting. no resistance, no battle, no strength behind it, just obedience. submission. humility, in the face of the divine.

she's thoughtless. an exhibition on desire, an artwork of want: framed in motel room lighting and shadowed by the dark tresses of her hair. "cas, please, i need—" he knows what she needs. has half-given her what she wants. mari's nights dance in drenched waters, play at filthy scenes. she spends time, often, with hands between her thighs, fingers circling bundles of nerves. tearful and aching as she rides up and over the edge. begging an angel to relieve her. pleading for him to want her. praying, just like this, for him to take her. (i need, i need, i need; i want, i want, i want—) "more, please, can i—" the words flow like water, come like instinct. a shivering whimper, and she squirms once more. "i want to be good for you."

[hotvillain]

the same way castiel holds her together, he learns how to take her apart. he starts with her clothes: undressing her as if she's something delicate, grasping her as if she's something wild. like some frightened, feral thing that he's decided to keep— that's decided to keep him, in return. off goes her shirt, her jeans, her boxers. away goes the accessories, the facades, the secrets. he leaves her spreadeagled and waiting, in the interims. when he returns, he's nothing more than she is. naked, and alive. bared for the world to see.

she shivers at the feel of his hands across her torso, his palms against her tattoos. his tongue, open-mouthed and latching, finds the insides of her thighs. she's swimming in it. dripping down to her knees with the feel of it. his fingers curled to her insides, his thumb tracing circles around her clit— unraveling her from the bottom, up.

[steady.] sender holds receiver's trembling hands down gently against the sheets. — @chyremn, as castiel.

her hands are buried in the depths of his hair when he surfaces. guides her wrists on either side of her, while he traverses his way up. a leg hooks around his hip, mouth heavy along his shoulder, and tugs him an inch closer, despite his grip. "cas." soft, but it's a whine. impatient and needy, an ache of emptiness pulsing at her cunt. she tugs, light, at the hands around her wrists. "i need you."

[hotvillain]

the heat of it makes her feel strung out. his body against hers, her body atop his; her cunt twitching any time he shifts. she's no good at this. patience has never been her strong suit when it comes to sex— the waiting and wanting might send her over the edge as is. then comes the need, the ache. the twist in her stomach like peach-trees, pitted right in her belly as if it's about to sprout wings.

dean keeps her in place. one hand on her hip, the other raking through her hair ... his length stuffed up inside her, until thighs glisten. she doesn't like to keep still. wants to squirm and shift and bounce until all the evidence spills right out of her, down to her knees— but she doesn't. because despite the desperation, dean gives her praise. feeds her compliments. spoons kisses into the crevice of her neck. keeps her steady. (taking it so well, baby — you look so fucking good.)

[stay.] sender plays with receiver's hair while being cockwarmed by them. —  @m0tel, as dean winchester.

she's almost to tears by the time he thrusts up into her. slow, steady: the pace of his hips merely an adjustment. a half-sob, half-whine peels her composure away. "dean," pleading. nearly a beg. "stop fucking around, just—" she shifts up, then down, as a momentary release. "just fuck me."

[absolmemes]

☾ intimacy action prompts.

some prompts exploring the affectionate side of lust. mature audiences only; do not interact if you are a minor. add +reverse to reverse the roles. combine prompts by sending multiple at once. only use these prompts to portray consensual scenarios.

[mwah.] sender kisses receiver slowly, keeping their mouths joined even while moving inside them.

[stroke.] sender gently runs their hands through receiver's hair during sex.

[nestle.] sender buries their face in receiver's neck, planting kisses against it mid-fuck.

[safety.] sender and receiver experiment together as friends.

[held.] sender intertwines their fingers with receivers while having sex.

[steady.] sender holds receiver's trembling hands down gently against the sheets.

[comfort.] sender makes love to receiver after a rough day.

[borrow.] sender wears receiver's shirt/sweater while they have sex.

[confession.] sender murmurs "i love you" against receiver's skin.

[tease.] sender peppers kisses at receiver's stomach before dipping lower.

[worship.] sender worships receiver's body / chest / thighs / arms / back with touch, kisses, and praise.

[tender.] sender gently traces their fingers along receiver's scars.

[guide.] sender moves receiver's hand where they need it most.

[check-in.] sender pauses every few thrusts to ensure receiver is handling things okay.

[grind.] sender ruts against receiver through their clothing.

[first.] sender, being more experienced, guides receiver through their first time.

[cup.] sender holds receiver's face in their hands and kisses them tenderly.

[hurried.] sender hikes receiver's clothing just far enough to push inside of them.

[savor.] sender deliberately slows their rhythm, intent on lasting as long as possible.

[vice.] sender holds receiver close while finishing inside of them.

[stay.] sender plays with receiver's hair while being cockwarmed by them.

[yobitch]

mari pins him to the mattress like a gallery piece:  nailed, framed, and signed with the cursive loops of her calligraphy.  he is a limber illustration.  a squirming smudge atop her canvas.  already, jesse is overwhelmed with the urge to ask for more  —  more second helpings, more speedy fixes, more reasons to stave off his restlessness.  gratification dialed to the tenth degree.  (  perhaps, mari prefers a gradual undoing. wants every smidgen of self-possession siphoned from his veins. laid at her feet.  reigned by her skilful grasp.  )  the thought is inexplicably hot.  so is the way she stares him down, committing the watery glint in jesse’s eyes to memory. 

and memory is a mutable thing.  moth-eaten, ever-elusive.  a few weeks ago, it was this:  graffitied walls, synthetic ministrations, the sort of rapture that necessitates a sacrifice.  requires a burnt offering.  (  stoke those cinders, pass that bill, shotgun a hit, fuck on the filthy floor—   a latticework of hickeys, lurid yet interchangeable—   who leaves, who stays, who keeps the party going, who feeds him obscene one-liners and covets his supply—  )  today, it’s the stretch of mari kiss-slick stomach.  the sacred geometry of her limbs.  today, it’s a trust fall.  he plunges eagerly.  despite the order, jesse’s hands haven’t ceased their movement. roving from her waist to her ribcage to the slope of her back.  rinse, repeat, replay.  “  fuuuck.  ”  he curses, craning his neck, baring his throat in some perverse facsimile of a request.  “  look, just—   just lemme eat you out, just gimme something, mari, i can’t—  ”  say it.  even bulldozed by desperation, jesse still can’t say it.

[hotvillain]

memory is a mutable thing. butterfly-winged, ever-changing. years ago, mari would remember days like this— sweat-filled rooms, simulated sweetness, the kind of submission that implies a slaughter. brought alive by love. sort-of-love. kind-of-love. almost-love, hollow cheeked and gauntly placed. shivering at tenderness. shriveling from aftercare. saved, only by the repetitive motion. (place your hand here, my throat there— my mouth, a useful thing. speak less, swallow more— my body, burned at the stake.) today, mari doesn't think of love. doesn't dare to even consider to submit. today, she holds the reins. today, jesse follows— happily.

and isn't that the point? this silly, stupid, simple point of satisfaction— this easy, earned, exemplary exchange of trust— her pleasure. his gratification. their consent. (her hands around his shoulders. mari's grip along his frame. every movement, every moment, every modicum of their trade—) what is this, if not the crux? if not the core? jesse offers, mari takes— receiving is a type of giving, too.

yet, here, jesse doesn't know how to deliver. falters, in his effort to translate. are you going to be good? does he think he can only be bad? again, he avoids the response. dodges a want, that mari can't help but instill. his response doesn't shake her resolve. doesn't refute what mari thinks— what she knows. (you are good, jesse. you are good.) her hands press him down further. the mattress sinks with their weight. "tell me." her tone softens. slight, and saturated with intent. "tell me, and i'll give you a reward." her thumb swipes over the corner of his shoulder. tenderness, waiting to strike.

[yobitch]

he’s excitable. shunning timidity, dishing out graceless non-sequiturs. juggling please-please-pleases and jesus-fucking-christs. excitable, like the clutch at mari’s hip, the bid for mari’s approval, the impish drag of his fingertips, curling in—   where has jesse heard that before?  (  basements. bathrooms. back-alley hookups. a chronology of climactic scenes, projected inside a pitch-dark movie theater.  )  establishing shot:  two silhouettes melded as one. medium shot:  fistfuls of hair, salt-rimmed strokes, sweat beading the bony notches of his spine. close-up shot:  cigarette ash on white linen. outtakes:  don’t go. run me ragged. split me open. nip along the seams. 

it’s dizzying, the contact. it scorches the pale field of jesse’s skin. conducts the staccato stutter of his breathing. @hotvillain teases him just right. he’s excitable, he’s good, he’s even better—   where has jesse heard that before?  (  kinetic eruptions. small demonstrations of sympathy at daybreak. whatever starts with how’d you sleep and culminates in you don’t get it, i’m a nuisance, you should scold me, you should tell me i’m a nuisance...  )  what has he done to warrant tenderness? what will he do to prepare for its reappearances? jesse could heel. sit. stand. make mari come on her command. 

jesse could speak a human language.  “  that’s a weird saying.  ”  he half-provokes, half-groans, bucking upward to prove a stubborn point. instinctually rolling against her. summoning the consequences of his actions. once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.  “  i don’t, uh, totally know whatchu mean, so—   you gotta show me.  ”  

[hotvillain]

paved in haloed lights, prettied beneath a stare, jesse's devotion comes when she does. his faith comes to him in pieces. lassoed to the imprint of her thumbs, stamped to the press of her thighs, belief beckons him to the cross. purifies his pleasure. washes up, over, and through him, until he's gone. blissed out. bartering his dignity for desire, and kept gasping against mari's skin. perfect. show, not tell, believe, not see. when jesse's god comes to fruition, she makes it known. (cherry-red lips. strawberry-pink blush. slickness, that sweetens even rain. a half-parted mouth. hips rolling in like the shore. moans, mooring jesse to his place.) she makes it heard. she makes him need, in the way that she doesn't— in the way that she will.

in the way that she always does. even after he's collected his items, even after his departure, she'll still feel him on her skin. warm against her throat. his chuckle ripe along her collarbone, his snark snipped against her tone. days, weeks, maybe months after his leaving, she'll need him. need this. need some strange, compartmentalized, sweet kind of submission that only he'll provide. (when he's good, she's good. when she's bad, he's even better.) it's a problem. perhaps, an addiction. certainly, an indulgence. it's something she doesn't know how to accept. someone she only knows how to receive. somewhere she's never had before, and might never again.

but that doesn't stop the now. "stay still." she croons, but lets her hands do the talking. her palms move down and over his hipbones. pressing him to the base of the bed. her hips roll back in retaliation, and she grips him a touch tighter. a centimeter closer. (flesh to flesh, hand to god, skin to skin.) her gaze stays, latched onto his. darkened, and unmoving. "are you going to be good?"

[hotvillain]

like a rosary strung around his neck, a crucifix pinned beneath his palms, mari takes his faith and personifies it. purifies it. paints it across his bedsheets in pleasurable motions. backstroking her way through satin, submerging beneath his touch, he runs over her like water. works through her like flame. his warmth knits throughout her ribcage, tugging at the insides of her stomach. there's nothing like it. this intimacy, these moments, the feeling of his knuckles curved up against her cunt— a hand, nestled gently against her jaw. kiss me, he says, and she does. mouth to mouth. chest to chest. fierceness to ferocity, she bucks her hips up against him and asks for more. mouths the letters against his lips like the alphabet. rearranges it until it spells out please. whines, unraveled, until the sugar spin of her sentence tastes like wine. sweetness, with just the bare hint of sour. left to ferment, in the ache of their love.

"look at me." — @graveflwers, as raúl espinoza.

look at me, he says. and she does. eye to eye. breath to breath. faith to faith. a devotion, a dedication, a dominance tossed between their hearts. first him, then her. first her, then him. equilibriums balanced in the space of their pulse. she looks, and keeps looking. pupils blown, eyes wide, the part of her lips near pornographic. a visual of transcendent need. mari's back arches. her legs spread. her form, hitched against the swell of his back, brings him an inch closer. a bite nearer. a want, slick along her thighs. "raúl," she says, and it strings across the bedsheets. strains against her vocal chords. the rasp of his name pitches higher, and any restraint dissolves. "please," she says, and she means it. like i love you, like i want you, like i'll never want anything else. like i crave you, i worship you, like prayer built on bent knees. por favor, mi amor, te necesito. i need you.

[hotvillain]

the back rooms of the club enable it. her burning knees, her raw hands, their lips with an edge of a whiskey shot. carpet burn. the clawing to an ache inside her stomach. it's only until midnight that she can hold out. 'til she's honey slick, substance heavy, all spite and spit and sweat curving against her hipbones. swooning to the light of imaginary disco balls, sighing at the sound of full scale orchestras, spotlights flickering or flaring or fuse-blowing in the backs of her eyelids. [in other words: high. wanting. desperate.] it's an addiction. a dependency. a fever she can't sweat out, and fuck, why would she want to? not when he gets her like this— bent along the clearing of a table, legs spread to either side of his form, fingers inching and circling and thrusting up inside of her until she's shaking ... what is there to give up? why would she want to try?

"could you come like this?" — @124player, as nam-gyu.

a whine drools out and down from her lips, glossed over with the heavy pant of it, the tremble of it, the rapid pacing of her heart. her lips part, half-open with the beginnings of a sentence, coherence blurred in the peripheral of his hands. still pumping, still flicking, still hunting for that spot that makes her— "ah," another whine shakes through her body, thighs coated with evidence to her desire. "keep— fuck, — keep going, and you'll find out." the bravado sounds weak, even from her ears. strained against the center of her clit, the tighten of her stomach, the vice grip she keeps against the side of the table, her hips buck. a cry muffles. "oh my go— just, just fuck me. i need— more."

[ohisms]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑬 .    (   a  series  of  nsfw  prompts ,  separated  by  quotes   &   acts .   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one  who  posted  the  meme .  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts  )

       →  WORDS .

❛  i’m  sorry ,  you  don’t  enjoy  being  teased ? .  ❜ ❛  you  know  what  i’m  waiting  for .  ❜ ❛  keep  your  hands  where  they  are .  ❜ ❛  i want you to ride  [ me / my fingers ] .  ❜ ❛  you  make  the  prettiest  sounds .  ❜ ❛  say  please .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  make  this  last .  ❜ ❛  look  at  me .  ❜ ❛  i’m  yours ,  only  yours -  ❜ ❛  yeah ,  just like that -  ❜ ❛  i’ve  barely  even  started .  ❜ ❛  i  need  you .  ❜ ❛  god ,  shut  up  and  fuck  me  already !  ❜ ❛  god ,  yes ,  [ name ] ,  don’t  stop .  ❜ ❛  you  have  no  idea  how  long  i’ve  wanted  to  do  this .  ❜ ❛  who  gets  to  touch  you  like  this ?  ❜ ❛  come  for  me .  ❜ ❛  ah ,  ah -  don’t  touch .  ❜ ❛  brace  your  hands  on  the  wall .  ❜ ❛  could  you  come  like  this ?  ❜ ❛  please ,  let  me  come -  ❜ ❛  god ,  you’re  beautiful -  ❜ ❛  i’ve  been  waiting  for  this  all  night .  ❜ ❛  you’re  such  a  tease .  ❜ ❛  take  these  off .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  feel  your  [ mouth / fingers ] .  ❜ ❛  do  you  have  any  idea  how  good  you  taste ?  ❜ ❛  tell  me  what  you  want .  ❜ ❛  we  shouldn’t -  ah ,  we shouldn’t be doing this .  ❜ ❛  faster ,  [ name ] ,  i  need  more .  ❜ ❛  is  this  good ?  ❜ ❛  keep  your  eyes  open .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  wait  to  find  out  what  else  you  can  do .  ❜ ❛  you  don’t  have  to  be  so  gentle .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  hear  you  beg .  ❜ ❛  can  i  take  this  off ?  ❜ ❛  please ,  please ,  please -  ❜ ❛  you’re  doing  so  well  for  me .  ❜ ❛  please  touch  me .  ❜ ❛  keep  reading ,  i  want  to  see  how  long  you  last .  ❜ ❛  i’ll  buy  you  another  one .  ❜ ❛  say  my  name .  louder .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  wait  any  longer .  ❜ ❛  you  feel  so  good .  ❜ ❛  you’re  going  to  leave  a  mark -  ❜ ❛  touch  yourself  for  me .  ❜ ❛  do  you  deserve  it ?   ❜ ❛  did  i  say  you  could  come ?  ❜ ❛  i’m  so  close -  ❜ ❛  they’re  going  to  catch  us -  ❜ ❛  i  want  you  right  here .  ❜ ❛  we  have  to  be  quiet .  ❜

         →  ACTIONS .

❛  pin .   to  restrain  my  muse’s  hands  during  intimacy . ❛  mirror .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  in  front  of  a  mirror . ❛  deny .   to  deny  my  muse  an  orgasm . ❛  distance .   to  have  [ phone / video ]  sex  with  my  muse . ❛  playlist .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  while  music  is  playing . ❛  paw .   to  fondle  my  muse’s   [ chest  /  ass ] . ❛  wall .   to  pin  my  muse  against  a  wall . ❛  table .   to  hoist  my  muse  onto  a  [ table  /  counter ] . ❛  clothed .   to  make  my  muse  come  while  fully  dressed . ❛  finger .   to  finger  my  muse . ❛  oral .   to  give  my  muse  oral . ❛  fervent .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  after  a  fight . ❛  distraction .   to  rile  my  muse  up  during  a  film . ❛  mark .   to  leave  marks  on  my  muse  [  optional :  specify where  ] . ❛  tie .   to  use  restraints  on  my  muse  during  intimacy . ❛  throat .   to  choke  my  muse  during  intimacy . ❛  sparring .   for  sparring  to  turn  into  sex . ❛  toys .   to  use  toys  [ vibrator / strap / otherwise ]  on  my  muse . ❛  imagery .   to  send  my  muse  a  risque  photo . ❛  drag .   to  pull  my  muse  closer  by  a  piece  of  clothing . ❛  tear .   to  tear  a  piece  of  clothing  from  my  muse’s  body . ❛  shower .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  in  the  [ shower / bath ] . ❛  sneaky .   to  sneak  away  from  a  gathering  to  have  sex  with  my  muse . ❛  beg .   to  make  my  muse  beg . ❛  carnal .   to  [ scratch / bite ]  my  muse  during  intimacy . ❛  preoccupied .   to  rile  my  muse  up  as  they  [ read / work ] . ❛  jealous .   to  purposefully  make  my  muse  react  possessively . ❛  dare .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  based  off  a  dare . ❛  read .   to  re-enact  something  from  a  [ book / show / porn ]  with  my  muse . ❛  collapse .   to  break  a  bed  during  sex  with  my  muse . ❛  caught .   to  get  caught  with  my  muse  during  sex .