Mar 4
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑑,
𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑡 - 𝐿𝑢𝑖𝑔𝑖 𝑃𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜
It is done 🫶
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Bahrain
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Italy
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑑,
𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑡 - 𝐿𝑢𝑖𝑔𝑖 𝑃𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜
It is done 🫶
Aristen and Astarion by wonderful @vakariansyndrome ❤️
Thank you so much that you capture them so beautifully 🥹. Aristen is so happy and Astarion is so dreamy 🫠.
@/vakariansyndrome also did hot NSFW shots, but Tumblr don't like things like that, so you see them on Blue Sky 😈.
Love seat seduction
Lazuli and Laezel.
Full here
there’s something very precious to me about elven tav (in this case, specially thinking about my drow tav) romancing gale
it adds a whole other layer to the the entire “should gale become a god” thing, because you know gale’s romantic ass is going to want to live forever alongside his lover. the idea of gale dreading the fact that he’ll grow old while his lover stays young and continues living haunts me SO BADLY
on top of that, there’s also just the outright COMEDIC aspect of it, because you know gale “i want to fuck nasty while we’re still covered in blood and sweaty from battle” dekarios would ALSO find the entire age thing hot as hell
this motherfucker would say the practiced tongue line to elven!tav and they’d fire back with “i’ve got 300+ years of experience too ;)” and he’d explode immediately
#MagicalMarch Day 6: Project image for my pocket 📸
All the love to @bhaal-battle-beer-bard for another fun prompt! 🫶🏻
Here are my favourite VPs of the twins!
Saoirse 💫
Maeve 💫
Buuuuuuuuut! I also wanted to showcase some of the other VP I have with their loved ones! I've always loved movies/TV/books with ensemble casts, because I believe that the people around the main characters matter so much to the story. And the loved ones the twins keep close are wonderful, and very similar to my amazing friends! 💜
Keeping them under the cut because there's a lot! 👇🏻
MEOOOOOOW😼
I believe in nwn2 hero tav supremacy
𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐭.
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CONTENT : Fem/Elf Tav | Subby Rolan, but then he gets a little more confident muahaha | Tail Play | Heated Make-Outs | Messy Confession | Fingering (F Receiving) | P in V Sex | Rip Lorroakan (fuck that bitch) | Creampiiieee 🥧 | Tiefling Tail Head-Canons (ofc)
A/N : i’ve been wanting to write rolan for so long idk why it took me forever but AGH here we are i <3 tieflings
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Rolan's head is reeling. Thoughts, realisations, spinning within the cavern of his skull. Lorroakan, gone. And, he owes thanks yet again to his 'valiant' hero. To which, he raises his head – lips, parting to speak.
Yet, not even a breath escapes him – not before he's barrelling backward into a bookshelf, hands grasping at his robes, and lips upon his own. Her lips. The lips he'd dreamed of for so long, lips he'd yearned for – yet so painfully denied himself.
Her tongue isn't patient, as impatient as she, winding its way into his mouth with a soft noise of satisfaction. In turn, he whines, hands reaching to grapple at any part of her he could blindly reach – clawing at her hips, drawing her nearer.
She rolls her hips into his, arousal coiling within his abdomen, and he has to muster all that he has to break for air – instantaneous in his mourning at the loss of her lips, her taste.
"What are you.. doing..?" Is all he can manage, in a panted breath, a string of saliva still connecting them – his gaze, hazy with desire, as he peers at her through half-lidded eyes.
"Something I should've done a long time ago," She replies, blunt, simple. Her hand brushes a strand of hair back, away from his face, touch uncharacteristically gentle in comparison to what he'd just witnessed – "I really like you, Rolan."
He almost laughs. In fact, no, he does laugh – a small, quiet huff of amusement. "I think we've established that," He quips, snarky as ever, "But for what it's worth, I like you too. A lot."
A brief pause. His eyes dart from corner to corner. Flitting between bloodshed, books and..
Her companions are nowhere to be found. To that, he internally, mentally, breathes a loud, genuine sigh of relief. She notices, a coy smile playing at her lips, her fingers dipping beneath his robes – fingertips cold, against the harshness of his warmth, bumping over the ridges that decorated his skin. Rolan feels a shiver crawl up his spine, eyes fluttering to a momentary close, as a shaking, uneven breath ghosts past his lips.
“So, are we going to finish what we started?” Comes her voice, Gods her voice, once more – the words purred against his ear, her teeth grazing his skin. He’s unable to swallow the whimper that fights its way out, chest notably heaving, “My ears are s– ahh.. sensitive..”
She hums, hand seeking purchase in his underwear, but lingering just above the waistband – awaiting consent. “I assumed as much,” She murmurs, “Elven ears are only the same..”
“So, I’m your first tiefling?” He asks, voice dipping to a low, rasping hum, as he guides her hand to his cock – hips stuttering as her hand began teasing, languid strokes, thumb paying mind to the ridges that adorned his shaft – alongside bitterly teasing the tip with clear intent. He moans. Pitched, and unrestrained.
“First, and last.” Is her reply, brows knitted in concentration as she peers down at her own working hand, wrist expertly twisting, earning further, mewling whines from Rolan’s mouth.
Rolan’s own, fickle, fantasies paled in comparison to the reality that had now so graciously dawned upon him, his thighs tensing with every pump of her fist.
“So sensitive,” She muses, and his hands grapple for the bookshelf behind him, “I wonder if your tail is the same..”
“Don’t–!” Rolan gasps, but his fragile warning is cast upon deaf ears, her spare hand already pinching the tip of his tail between her thumb and forefinger. He yelps, spilling over her hand with trembling of his thighs.
“Oh,” Her tongue swipes over her fingers, before they sink into her mouth, tasting his seed – “Very sensitive.”
The after-shock of Rolan’s orgasm blurs his vision, whirls his head. So much so that he hardly, if at all, processes her movements – the disappearing of his tail, within the caverns of her mouth, slick with saliva. It’s not until her cheeks hollow, and a spasm of pleasure writhes through him, earning a waned whimper from the back of his throat. “Don’t– I can’t, I– too sss–sensitive..”
Rolan tugs, his tail pleading for exit – her jaw falls slack, brows arched in question. He has to catch his breath, and he does so; though, incredibly unsteadily. Meekly.
“I’m sorry,” His hands, without forewarning, toy with her armour – a silent begging for her to be rid of it, bloodshed and all, “I can’t cum again, not unless it’s inside of you.” She blinks, still and unprepared for the first time since the mere moments ago that their encounter started. Her senses, however, are swift in their return – and she peels off piece after piece, revealing every curve; every freckle, every shred of skin that Rolan could only have ever dreamed of touching, tasting.
Rolan’s robes are much less hassle, and to a silent God he offers his thanks for it. Stripped bare in front of one another, silence offers it’s blanket. It’s her, who moves first, fingertips dancing from his shoulders, right down to his knuckles. He notices the faintest of smiles playing at her lips, adoring in its nature. With a swallowed breath, Rolan outlines her waist, her hips, thighs, ass, with his hands.
“You’re warm,” She states, softly. He hums, and with a sharp pull on his behalf – their bodies are pressed flush. Wordlessly, she’s lead backward – thighs hitting the edge of something hard, sharp, earning an expel of air from her mouth. A desk. Lorroakan’s desk.
With a grunt of effort, she was splayed before him – upon the wood of the desk, his tail wound around her leg, spreading her open with gentle encouragement. His fingers press to her lips, and she understands – tongue swirling, wetting them. With a ‘pop!’, the digits are released – sinking impatiently into her pleading, begging cunt. Rolan gasps, her cunt hot, and tight around his fingers, as they slid, in, out, in, out. He curls them, and her head is thrown back. Thumb, paying mind to her neglected bud, circling it.
“So wet,” He murmurs, not toward her in particular – more so, a thought that had accidentally been uttered aloud. Regardless, he doesn’t regret it. No, her reply only makes him wish he’d said more.
“Because it’s you, Rolan.” She whines.
Gods, he couldn’t wait anymore. She groans, at the absence of his fingers, and he shushes her. “So greedy,” He mewls, “Even when you’re about to get exactly what you want.”
The inside of her greets his cock far differently in comparison to that of his fingers. She clenches, near immediately, and blissfully so. His hips are steady at first, cautious. Until they’re not, her hands finding his in an act of desperation, as his hips piston at an impossible pace – her hips rolling in tandem with his harsh, needy thrusts. Lewd sounds encapsulate the room, skin against skin, raw noises ripped equally from both of their throats. It’s heaven, if such a place truly exists.
Delirious, Rolan barely registers, notices, the premature arrival of his orgasm crawling up his spine, strumming his nerves. A guttural, cracked moan is yanked from his mouth, and he spills inside of her – eyes blown wide. “I’m sorry,” His nose, buries in the crook of her neck, “M’sorry.”
He feels the shaking of her head, light and affectionate, against him. “It’s alright,” A kiss, tender as its pressed to his hair, “I wanted you to.. I’m yours now.”
“Mine.” The word, singular, is spoken through a hidden smile.
Chapter 4, pages 12-13
Rolan's gonna have an aneurysm at this rate
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tags: @wasteful-sam
