[ Mid-afternoon, sent from their bed: a short video of Armand mid-stroke, thumbing through a bead of wetness that's run down from the tip of his cock. ]
( she loves looking at armand — an image of what she'd be, if she were born different, her chromosomes just slightly altered. he's so beautiful, she watches his video again and again, his deep skin, his elegant cock, the perfect angle of his thumb nail. there's nothing in the world as adored by parisa than her little twin brother. )
When you come, will it be in your fist or my mouth, brother?
[ Like a flower feeling the warmth of the sun, he blooms under her attention. She's the best part of him, separated into another person. He has dreams, occasionally, where he eats her out and keeps eating until he can crawl inside her and live within her skin, together as they were meant to be. He once told Parisa about them; it resulted in some of their hottest, most intense sex.
He thinks about that while he types a response (one handed). ]
( interested, even collecting her things from the bar she’s currently at — of course, she knows. intimately. armand is her life, her world, but he’s also her little toy to play with and test and push to breaking. she has a lipstick that matches the exact color of brick brown his cock turns when it’s been in a cockring for the night, refused the pleasure of an orgasm.
she, almost unconsciously, decides she’ll have another martini instead. why rush? )
[ She gets the whine she wants, though she can't hear it, breathless through gritted teeth as he reaches down and squeezes his balls, imagining it's her hand. She's the composer of his pleasure; he, the unworthy instrument.
( it's easy to picture him — her spoiled brother, his bleeding expression, pouty mouth and flushed skin. there's a reason he's so inclined to the arts, and it's because he's the aspirational masterpiece. he pulls genius out of people like a wolf pulls out innards — and this is where parisa excels, where her particular talents flourish. )
Please my love, my goddess, my reason for being. Jaanam, my moon and stars. Eshgham, eshgham.
[ He's clearly edging himself in this video, stroking his cock faster, sliding his palm over the piercing at the tip. Breathless little gasps somewhere above the camera, repeating the words he's written like a mantra, eshgham, eshgham, their mother tongue. Then he catches himself, stopping and squeezing himself at the base with a groan. ]
text - un: 💋💋💋💋 - nsfw
Thinking of you. 😉
no subject
When you come, will it be in your fist or my mouth, brother?
cw: sexy body horror? vore? sorry
He thinks about that while he types a response (one handed). ]
How fast can you be here?
☺️☺️☺️
( interested, even collecting her things from the bar she’s currently at — of course, she knows. intimately. armand is her life, her world, but he’s also her little toy to play with and test and push to breaking. she has a lipstick that matches the exact color of brick brown his cock turns when it’s been in a cockring for the night, refused the pleasure of an orgasm.
she, almost unconsciously, decides she’ll have another martini instead. why rush? )
no subject
Armand knows what she wants. ]
🥺🥺🥺🥺
Please, Parisa.
no subject
Please, what?
Send me another video. 🖤
no subject
[ He's clearly edging himself in this video, stroking his cock faster, sliding his palm over the piercing at the tip. Breathless little gasps somewhere above the camera, repeating the words he's written like a mantra, eshgham, eshgham, their mother tongue. Then he catches himself, stopping and squeezing himself at the base with a groan. ]
Fuck I'm so hard for you.