This Scene Has Got Me In A Chokehold! There’s Communication, Vulnerability, It’s Hot As Hell And

Hey guys sorry i haven’t posted in a while here is a still shot of my Beautiful friend Jessica birthing her daughter this morning around 4:30am, she started pushing at exactly 2:04pm the day before, Robert (her babies father) insisted that Jess birth his baby natural this ment as long as her vagina was still stretching and making room for his baby that nothing could to done to speed the process for Jess,

Keeping a cute boy well behaved, massively pregnant, and unimaginably spoiled is the ultimate goal! Give him his favorite snacks, and belly rubs while reminding him what a good job he's doing is incredibly important, it's what he deserves for holding our babies and being such a good boy, after all. Telling him what a cute little daddy he'll be, and watching him squirm as I promise to make sure he carries a bigger litter every time I breed him is my job 💖

My tik tok be wylin out sometimes 🤣😭

Below waist length hair goals!

there are nawt enough stories and imagines reflecting how much I would let tenoch destroy my throat. just a ridiculously beautiful and charming man, but crumbs on here. crumbs!!!!! I hope for the second week of bp:wk out there are more

shameless

pairing: namor x (f)reader

word count: 548

warnings: eighteen+ content, m receiving oral, mentions and implications of past sexual encounters, deep throating on the beach basically, poetic af, no spoilers but let’s pretend that certain things didn’t happen and this makes sense, a bit of dirty talk, a touch of forbidden relationship, reader is from wakanda.

note: here’s a crumb from a whore who is also scouring every part of the internet for more content of this man!!!

The beach is quiet at night. The calm movements of the waves mingling with the hum of insects in the trees make for a peaceful symphony, that even the most lonesome hearted could feel serenity from.

It’s why you found yourself down here when you couldn’t sleep. Sand between your toes, your weight sinking into it like a welcome abyss. The sounds of the ocean, of nature, bringing a peace of mind to your ever racing thoughts on most nights.

You liked the alone time.

Liked to be left with only you and the water. As if it washed away every mental ailment that stung you that day, that week—month. A refreshing breath of air.

A ritual that morphed itself into something forbidden when he began showing up.

Your alone time turning into something shared with someone you should have turned your back to. Should have made your way back up the sand the first night he appeared out of the water.

Anger. Fear. Anything other than acceptance should have soiled your once peaceful time. Should have kept you from returning every night.

Not being the reason why you kept returning.

That anger and fear never showing up, when he always did.

You wondered if he waited for you. Every night. To see your silhouette darken the shore as he waited just below the surface.

Like a predator waiting for its prey.

You should hate him.

Hating him was easier than whatever these meetings turned into.

Going from something innocent, a way to not be alone, water and oil meeting and trying to learn to be one; to something you should feel ashamed over.

The quiet of the beach now tainted, soiled, with sounds of mouths pressed together, moans, skin on skin.

Just as the anger and fear never showed neither did the shame. You knew if you dug deep enough there might be hatred and guilt aimed at yourself—where it should be aimed at him.

Both unfair when you really thought about it. Unfair for you to feel hatred when its route cause felt so good.

Unfair for you to aim hatred at him when there had been no forcing, no convincing, no manipulation to get you like this. To start this. To continue it.

You had other things to hate him for. But this was not one of them.

Even after that first night when he had left your bottom covered in sand, thighs soaked from your arousal and his mouth; guilt and hatred were washed away with his tongue, like the waves he disappeared in.

That’s why it’s no surprise the only thing you feel right now as tiny stones in the sand dig into your knees, throat feeling raw, jaw aching, deep groans sounding from above you—is pleasure.

The peace of the night ruined by wet sputters.

“What would your queen say if she saw you like this?” Namor’s tone is rough and lust riddled. Hips snapping forward as his fingers dig into the back of your skull, as he keeps your mouth attached to his cock, as he uses your mouth, your tongue—your throat—as nothing more than something to conquer, claim. There’s a smirk on his lips when you look up at him, as drool runs down your chin. “Shameless. Perfect,” he grunts.

Jumpman jumpman

tiny 🤏 for @raplinenthusiasts cr. jung-koook

I wanna f@ck a priest