quifaitmal

[quifaitmal]

@eatdesire guess what asshole. im going to destroy mandricardo's

Hektor presses on Mandricardo's shoulder blade with one hand, keeping his torso pressed to the mattress, as the other is tight around the Rider's waist to hold him up and in place. There will probably be faint mark there afterwards, but somehow Hektor can't imagine Mandricardo complaining about that.

Not with the way he stopped being able to bite his noises back as soon as Hektor started fucking him rough. Young heroes these days (as if he's not well aware he's barely older than Mandricardo), always so demanding of their seniors. Hektor slams into Mandricardo hard and deep, as if the other's just a toy Hektor's using to chase his own means.

Not that he actually is. Hektor likes Mandricardo too much to view him like that, but pretending clearly does something to Mandricardo, considering the way he's squirming and babbling beneath Hektor. What a cute guy. He's flushed and trying his best, and every time Hektor hits his prostate he can feel Mandricardo tighten up around him with an exclamation.

Cute, cute, how is Hektor supposed to help wanting to bully him? And it looks like Mandricardo's close, too, so — what better time to give him some extra trouble? Hektor sits back abruptly, grip tightening around Mandricardo to take the other with him as he goes. Mandricardo's lifted and then shoved back down on Hektor's cock, forced to sit on Hektor's lap.

This is nice, as Hektor can see Mandricardo better like this. His legs shaking, face red and a tear caught at the corner of his eye, Mandricardo's dick flushed and dripping stiff against his stomach. Hektor leans to kiss just behind Mandricardo's ear. "You're a Rider, aren't you? How about you show me what you can do and finish yourself off. Don't touch yourself, I want to watch you come just from my dick. I think you can manage that, little Troia."

[quifaitmal]

their friend who has a handful of ass, and continues to have said handful of ass. he’s leaning over bedivere, perfectly pleased with himself. “ah? ‘m simply doing as i like.” as he often does anyways, it just until now hasn’t occurred to him to direct it to any of the knights. bedivere’s in danger. “can’t waste an opportunity.” he squeezes bedivere’s ass once more, while using his free hand to lower bedivere’s gauntlet. “you’re red.” obviously. translation: he wants to see bedivere get redder. what are you gonna do about it, punk.

@originlist​:     squeezes someone’s asscheeks

“ lancelot— ”  they exhale shakily, silver hand shooting up to shroud their bright face. now isn’t the time to let their mind wander! (it’s the perfect time, actually,) they respect their friend!! (’friend’ who has a whole fistful of ass,) it’d be wrong to derive any pleasure from this!!!! (he is literally initiating the encounter, bedivere,)  “ just how can you be so forward?? ”

[quifaitmal]

@eatdesire​ " 'toooo~oonio, "  here comes dumbass, its arms easing around his waist from behind as it oh-so often does. this time, though, it presses to him firmer- one hand slips beneath the top of his suit while the other wiggles his belt curiously; a silent request for permission to go that far.  " how's my good boy today? do you mind if i kiss you a little right now? "  its fingers delicately trace along the curves of his belly, ribs, and chest as it speaks,  " i've been workin' so hard and i missed you so much. ♡ "   ( idiot gets babygirlified Again courtesy of @eatdesire )

his master’s not as sneaky as it thinks it is. but salieri’s also not as unapproachable as he wants to be. no effort is made to evade the arms encircling him, even despite the ever-present conviction that one day his skin will burn. there’s a twitch of muscle under dumbass’s hands and a light flush slowly blooming over salieri’s cheeks, even as he is clearly trying to act utterly unbothered at both the touch and the offering of nickname.

“hm.” it’s not a ‘yes’, but salieri isn’t that easy to get a straight answer out of. it isn’t a no, which means ‘go ahead’. he leans back a little more against dumbass, turning his head toward it. “do as you wish.” nicely distant, diplomatic, as if it won’t be him sucking on dumbass’s tongue in about ten seconds.

[quifaitmal]

[quifaitmal]

bonmotx​.

[ keep reading ]

gawain warns him as if lancelot needs it. does he think lancelot doesn’t know, does he think that lancelot will have forgotten lessons ingrained to his bones simply because he’s a berserker and in fervor? "it's not anyone else," muttered just coherently enough to pass as understandable. gawain isn't anyone else, no one else gets this, even among those lancelot has also chased. only gawain can fill this role, only gawain that he needs to dig into, that has molten light and tree sap falling over his lips. to take communion isn't dangerous. lancelot will ensure that, will take his want just to the edge of what might be dangerous, as he needs to monopolize and become undeniable but cannot truly become a danger to gawain.

to love is to bind, to bind is to eat of the fae, trade blood. lancelot takes the offer. he mouths over gawain's neck, the seam that drips birdsong and sun. there’s a fairy’s promise in his throat, and lancelot’s blood in gawain’s mouth to equalize the contract. he wants to press against gawain, the inarguable presence of body weight and heat, but he cannot do both that and stoop over him. the height is too different in scale.

but gawain mentions clothes and lancelot remembers. in the way. he scrabbles at the straps on gawain’s shoulders securing his armour. “fuck,” muttered against gawain’s jaw this time. he needs both hands for this, even as he’d tried to tangle his fingers with gawain’s, an inefficient and nonsense want, even as he’s trying to get himself lost in ivy, let branches grow through him.

one does what one must. unfortunately. so he releases gawain’s hands, pressing his lips to gawain’s in a messy kiss to make him quit talking sooner as lancelot pulls along the buckles of gawain’s armour and pin of his cloak until they snap free. “you’ll get more than you think.” a promise and still, because it’s his habit, a warning. lancelot isn’t something that can hold himself back any more. he’s a tide gawain’s caught in, mouth and teeth and hands over every inch of him that’s revealed as lancelot strips clothing away as he goes.

he leaves marks of bite and kiss near and on the cut to gawain’s neck, the cut that’s a marking of another more powerful one of the fair folk that claimed him first. lancelot won’t (cannot) supersede that, but he can add himself to the signage. no longer holding gawain’s hands back, lancelot uses fingers to touch what he can’t reach with mouth. the fine hairs on the back of gawain’s neck, the curve of his shoulderblades.

lancelot’s armour is the fog, metal turning into something that only looks like metal, and that is chased away by gawain’s hands like cloud is meant to be. lancelot’s hands are on gawain’s hips now, working on carefully undoing the sash without looking at it. he’s mindful for once, erring on the side of caution as he’s too-aware of his usual tendencies. his mouth is on gawain’s chest, then his nipple, then— he pauses over gawain’s sternum. lancelot can almost hear the heart there, beating sap and the blood of milkweed. he breathes, desperation caught for a moment. the draw back before the crest of a wave.

gawain’s heart beats, alive and strange and for him, for him, wanting and dedicated. a king he understands, a king who understands him. there is little human if he could reach in and push his fingers into the ventricle, nothing like what should be there and yet still, lancelot feels it’s better this way. “i will give you,” lancelot says in a breath.

“i will give you.” he abruptly takes one of gawain’s hands in his own. he kisses the knuckles, second then first. the palm. he takes gawain’s finger into his mouth, curling tongue around it like an experiment. “i’ll,” his mouth is full and he speaks like it’s urgent. remove gawain’s hand, kiss his wrist. he presses his thigh firmer against gawain’s crotch, reveling in feeling the outline of his cock. to be wanted never mattered, particularly, for the mot part — lancelot was often wanted, ladies throwing themselves at him, and it has always been deeply unpleasant. this is different, it’s something that matters personally to him this time, and he might understand how the ladies felt, desperate for the thrill of being wanted.

“anything you want. more than that. until you can’t want any more.” he has to. he has to keep going. no matter what’s beyond this, he can’t stop when gawain talks like this and it makes lancelot feel like he is, for once, in his own body and sharply alive there.

he can’t talk like gawain does now, stringing together poetry and sense, managing eloquence no matter the situation. it’s a failing, one of many, but lancelot hopes the message is given and received in how he kisses gawain and that all of him is wanted, all will be despoiled. a favour from the king himself. the concept alone makes lancelot unsteady, giddy. the love of a king.

he manages to get gawain’s pants off, ripping a seam down the side. (he’d managed to do well— relatively— until now, but he has limits. even for someone he respects like this.) ah, and how gawain is hard and dripping for him, flushed and wanting and needy for the king’s knight.

abruptly, lancelot wants to take everything of him, draw gawain into himself and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. the overwhelming need to leave his mark more on every part of gawain. he can’t touch all of him at once and it’s overwhelming. he kisses gawain abruptly and roughly to distract himself from the contrasting desires to do everything at once. hand slips in to wrap fingers around gawain’s dick. he strokes him a few times, at an awkward angle from the crush of their bodies. it’s just to provide some relief and slick his fingers. it’s not normal precome, too like thin tree sap. the thought of milkweed returns and lancelot has to avoid the urge to lick his fingers clean as an experiment.

no, he can’t do that. yet. perhaps later (and the idea that there will / could be ‘later’ thrills him too. that he can continue to press against gawain and leave his mark and make him shiver again, make gawain pray to his knight as much as he like). later. for now he hikes one of gawain’s legs up and presses druid-slicked fingers against his ass. “i’m gonna. i have to have you, everything, more than my mouth, let me—.”

he doesn’t want to say it crassly, but he can’t manage gawain’s eloquence. what was the word he’d used? can’t remember. he pushes inside, stretching gawain out as lancelot presses chest against him, too. surrounded on all sides. he needs to take from gawain, has to fuck him with the exact level of impropriety the word implies. he can ignore a little bit that his own cock is pressed against the rise of gawain’s hip, not as important now as it is ensuring gawain will be able to take him, pressing into the heat of his king until he figures out where makes him twitch. “keep talking. talk for me.” the words don’t matter, just the flow of his voice, hearing him talk and praise and come apart into hitched adoring meaninglessness.

[quifaitmal]

bonmotx​.

Great news honey it will make my husband thrilled if I make you an utter fucking mess. Here you go. One mommy milker for here, not to-go.

“i don’t know how to process that sentence, thank you so much.” he’s going to die. he’s going to actually combust, be shot down by lightning from the hand of god for his audacity and for getting to live his dreams. he is also leaning his head against andromache’s ample soft bosoms, one hand cupping a breast. it’s fine if he dies. “uh. uhm. please. feel free. to. yup.” something about making him a mess? honestly she could mean that violently or sexually or mentally (the latter, already happening) and he would thank her for the honour of whichever she wanted.

[quifaitmal]

[quifaitmal]

@bonmotx​ asked:

[ GRADUAL ] for receiver to slowly undress sender, caressing and kissing every part of them they expose. (and a bit of REVERENT bc it's fucking amdusias)

“i am surprised you’re not in more of a rush.” antonio leans back as the gilded buttons of his shirt are undone and amdusias’s lips are quick to map his collarbone. this iteration of salieri lacks the burn scars, no swirling patterns of curse over skin. some things are able to be forgiven. instead, he allows a demon to touch him.

perhaps before he was barred from death, he would have thought that far too sacreligious. not these days (how can amdusias be called a demon to be excised and sent to die when he’s a ghost in the shape of a man, same as the rest of them). instead he caresses this demon in the mockery of a composer. antonio’s touch is light, fingers gentle over the wings crowning amdusias’s temples.

they’re interesting. he likes playing with those and it’s something of an indulgence for antonio to linger there, delicately carding through feather. he remains oddly casual in the way he bares himself, a lack of self-consciousness when amdusias finally pushes antonio’s shirt from his shoulders and antonio shrugs the garment off. hands go this time to the nape of amdusias’s neck, toying with the other’s hair as well before dipping fingers under his collar. he keeps his explorations almost idle, only touching what is accessible without trying to pry off clothing. amdusias is rather distracted with his own proceedings, antonio feels no need to add anything else on top of it. one mission at a time.

this little novice of his. “mm. that tickles.” a hand at his side, over hip. “come here a moment, up.” antonio only needs to touch fingertips to tune underside of amdusias’s chin forthe other to tilt his head up and follow the gesture to bring himself from around antonio’s lower ribs to his face.

antonio kisses amdusias. gently at first, to match the reverence with which amdusias had been kissing him, before pressing more into it. he makes demands of amdusias on purpose. and amdusias does his best to measure up. perhaps a little too eager, but antonio can forgive that. it’s him who breaks the kiss as well, perhaps a twinge of satisfaction at the pleading look in amdusias’s expression. cute. “if i spend too long letting you write notes on me while i hold still, it’ll be me getting impatient. i’m nothing so great as to inspire worship, you know, but i won’t stop you from self-indulgence. you are charmingly eager to please.”

[quifaitmal]

if i want to write ritsu in a bunny suit setting themselves up to get plowed within an inch of their life at the dream casino for whores and no one will go hell yeah dez do that at me then i simply will do it at anyone. open to anyone who wants to just fuckign fold ritsu

It’s a casino reminiscent of the summer event ones, and looking outside would show the isolated Las Vegas’s night sky. But that’s where the familiarity ends, more or less. The entrance labels it Moon Rabbit Hall, and it’s a grand, lavish-looking place. The only oddity is that it seems slightly less populated than the Vegas Singularity casinos were, and the dealers at the tables are visibly holograms. Signs are placed for event halls with vague titles every couple of meters.

“It’s a Reality Marble, kind of,” Ritsu says by way of explanation. They sit on a banister, casually adjusting the headband they have on. “Between a dream and a Marble, anyways, set up with the help of one of the weird gods. I bribed ‘em, a little. Anything goes here, call it stress relief. Mostly for me.” Done adjusting, they sit back. They are once again in their bunny suit mystic code, gifted kindly from Ruler Artoria, but it looks like it’s been modified.

There’s more detail added, some more accessories, a little bow beneath one of the headband’s rabbit ears. Next to them is a platter with a small assortment of colourful cocktails on it — one of which, Ritsu grabs for themselves and takes a swig. “I’m technically supposed to be working, but Tatsuo handed something sketchy off for me to drink, so I’m feeling a liiiiiiittle like not walking. Keep me company♥? I’ll show you a VIP room and share whatever one of these ya want on the house if ya call me cute while you’re at it.”

[quifaitmal]

sometimes i think about omegaverse aus and its me batting my brain back with a broom

[quifaitmal]

Will suck your dick for my own personal enjoyment

[quifaitmal]

sssh its seibei as a treat for me. bc i can just grab mays muses like squeaky toys and do whatever i want

Bei’s punishments for causing trouble aren’t always the standard sort that a tutor would prescribe. Sometimes they’re almost indistinguishable from rewards, as Seimei has their head in his lap as they squirm and moan over him playing with the fun modern invention of vibrators. Sometimes they’re put through slightly more frustration. Such as now, when Seimei sits on their lap, just unclothed enough to have Bei’s dick inside him while passing to any hypothetical observer like he’s fully presentable.

He’s been working on a project for the past while, shifting only often enough to keep Bei hard and whimpering, but nothing else. There’s a sort of satisfaction in making them whine— oh, dear, is he discovering some sort of sadistic undertone in himself? That’s probably not good, time to tuck that thought back in the ‘ignore’ pile. Seimei leans back against Bei’s chest instead. He can feel the whine they make as a thrum in their ribcage, and he hums idly in response. “...Master,” Bei says eventually. Their voice is inches from crying, Seimei feels.

“Yes?”

“Can I please—”

“No.” He had already told them they’d have to wait until he’s done his work here. His mind isn’t changing. That’s what they get for trying to bully Yako, call it an exercise in self-control. Enforced self-control, maybe, as the binding charm encircling Bei’s dick to ensure they aren’t allowed to cum regardless of action. Bei makes a wordless sound of complaint, burying their head against Seimei’s crown, nose against the fluff of his ears.

That much is fine. Seimei gets a new color of ink and resumes neatly writing which directions will be unlucky for the upcoming month as if unbothered. He is, more or less (another thought to ignore, how easy it is lately for him to get accustomed to feeling Bei inside of him, a pleasant heat he chooses to not look deeply at). Seimei even gets an entire handful of minutes able to work without being bothered.

Only a few. It’s still too soon before he feels Bei move and start shifting a hand lower on Seimei’s abdomen, as if they go slowly enough he somehow won’t notice. Seimei changes the brush in his hand for his folding fan and (lightly) swats their knuckle in a quick movement. “You’re not allowed to touch yet,” Seimei says. 

Bei’s hands retreat back to holding their forearms, loosely encircling Seimei. He replaces the fan on the table, then reaches back to run his fingers through Bei’s hair, earlier tugged free from its bun, in reward for obedience. And because he likes their hair. It’s gotten softer lately, now that he has a vested interest in ensuring they’re slightly taking care of themself and Seimei’s gotten a habit of carding scented conditioner into it some mornings. Dull fingernails scrape lightly behind Bei’s ear. “Good pet.”

Bei whines and Seimei can feel their whole body tense and shake a bit. There’s a hiccup to the noise. He knows that would have pushed them over the edge if they were capable of cumming right now, and it’s with a slight sadistic bent that he leans his head back to speak more closely to them. “See, you’re fine being patient.” Only barely. Seimei gets the sense that he can feel Bei’s cock pulsing in him, even though the seal he placed is still intact. 

“You’re cruel.” Bei finally manages to force from their mouth, barely catching their breath.

Seimei shushes them. “I told you, it’s punishment. If it were easy, it would be a reward.”

The spot where Bei’s face has been pressed against Seimei’s temple is faintly damp from their tears. He’s used to that much. His hand drops and he resumes his work writing. “Please, master.” Bei whines. “I want to fuck you… don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

Seimei rolls his hips, just to make Bei whine and force the cock inside of him to twitch. They react beautifully. “Once I’m done here.” Just like he told them when this started, and the last eight times they asked.

“That’ll be at least another hour, though.”

“It certainly will. Perhaps longer if you keep distracting me.”

Bei groans and they hide their face against Seimei once more, giving up the argument for now. It’s no use, they can’t even pull the pitiful wife card successfully like this.

As threatened, it feels like an eternity passes before Seimei has a paper cutout take his brush away to be cleaned and he clears the ink back, signaling the project as complete. He loosely tugs a lock of Bei’s hair to get their attention back. “See, that wasn’t so difficult.”

“Seimei,” Bei says, voice hoarse. “Seimei, Seimei.”

“What?”

“Please,” they force out, their fingers over Seimei’s hips digging in tight enough to bruise.

Seimei leans forward to clear the completed calendar off of his writing desk. The movement draws him slightly off of Bei’s dick, the slip providing the first bit of proper friction Bei’s felt since they were allowed to bury themselves in Seimei. They gasp raggedly and their grip gets even tighter, obviously barely resisting the urge to yank Seimei back down. The whole time they keep repeating his name and pleas like a mantra that Seimei doesn’t reply to.

In fact, he makes his movements even slower and more exacting, meticulously folding and moving the calendar. He can feel Bei’s hands shake against his skin and definitely doesn’t smile a little at their effort. Ah, they’re definitely going to bite him for this. “Yes, yes, alright.” He undoes the charm on them with a single gesture.

Bei’s on him immediately with a desperate keening noise, slamming Seimei against the freshly-cleared desk in their urgency to manhandle him. The force of them pulling back and thrusting into him nearly knocks the air from his lungs, and Bei’s repetition of his name only gets quicker and more ragged, in time with them fucking him like it’s a life or death scenario.

Ah, he might have made them wait a little too long. His body’s going to be complaining at him tomorrow. But Bei is still endearing in their own way, mouthing at the base of his neck and crying at him for being mean, even as they fuck Seimei over his own desk too hard for him to mount a reply.

It’s one way to keep him from doing anything, he supposes. After hours of being strung out, Bei is quick to come, yanking Seimei to take their cock down to the base and whimpering as they start to fill him. Another perk of doing it like this, he has less physical exertion to worry about. “There you go, good pet.”

There’s another pulse of Bei’s release in him at the compliment. He repeats it, even as the stretch of them inside him gets mildly uncomfortable. They whine and, as if abruptly remembering, thrust a hand down Seimei’s pants. Bei knows what he likes by now and it’s clear they’re trying very hard to touch him gently despite the near-visible impulse to grab and claim everything with impatience. They try to stroke him without getting rough and for it, Seimei continues to praise them in quiet murmurs until they’ve gotten him to come, too, white dripping over their fingers.

Then, finally, Bei’s able to relax, still inside Seimei. He hears instead of sees them pull their hand back to lick their fingers clean of him. He knows perfectly well they get plenty of satisfaction from that, too… the thought has him slump down, hands steepled over his head. Ah, he might not have teased Bei long enough and might have gotten himself in trouble with how much they might get motivated to play with him even after this….

[quifaitmal]

@bonmotx спросил(а):

(kiss to the throat) Fafnir normally has the size advantage, but luckily, the Grey Man is far larger. 'Luckily'? Maybe Fafnir has some things about him that Fafnir hasn't realized. At least he's cute being fucked silly!

grey man’s claws are around fafnir’s throat and shoulders, the barest pinpricks of talon into fafnir’s skin. he doesn’t mean to leave marks in that way, but some things are unavoidable. especially as fafnir’s being quite easily manhandled. salieri leans down, metallic maw just over fafnir’s shoulder.

the noises fafnir makes are cute, and he would think them sweet if they didn’t taste to salieri like cloves and spice. they fall from fafnir’s mouth every time grey man thrusts into him and it’s a strangely addictive taste that only makes grey man want to fuck him harder. earn more, louder, different, a symphony.

salieri pulls fafnir back, dragging his back into a lovely arch. the flames of wildfire don’t hurt fafnir any time they’re close enough to touch, just a warm feathery feeling. he can extend that much of a kindness, though their heat is probably on par with that of the slicked cock inside him. good thing fafnir’s cold-blooded, perhaps, better able to benefit from grey man’s internal burning. salieri feels fafnir’s hands reach and curl fingers around the spikes along his bottom jaw, balancing himself. his movement as fafnir leans further back to press his lips to the top of salieri’s neck is something salieri most immediately describes as ‘elegant’.

strange, how fafnir can manage to be elegant when he likes, much less with grey man, and much less while grey man’s fucking him. still, grey man shifts to press his head against fafnir’s skin in what could be seen as a return gesture, an affectionate and soft chirping noise as his hands tighten possessively around his partner.

[quifaitmal]

dawntread​.

Robin stands over Ritsu with his arms crossed and a stern expression on his face, as he recovers from the mental damage of being told the sequence of events that led up to his dear Ritsu showing up to him looking like they’ve just been to a Halloween Singularity. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course this would happen to you, of all people,” he grumbles. At least they’re safe, but would it kill them to think of his heart’s health every so often? He’ll be the first Servant to die of a heart attack! 

“It’s not contagious, is it.” Wouldn’t be out of the question, there. It might be. It’s hard to say. The mental calculation runs through his mind. He peeks back at it. Despite himself, his mind wanders to what it might feel like, the girth and the ridges, and his heart picks up its pace…

…

“All right!” It’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking! “You win! But you had better help me clean up afterwards, do you hear me?” Lord knows given Ritsu’s energy and whatever the hell this is, he’ll be lucky to be able to move afterwards!

It would happen to Ritsu largely because they seek it out. Come on! It’s important! Scientific! Inquiries! How could they resist the allure of a mild shapeshifting potion that is also just by coincidence sexually transmitted? There’s a movement from behind them, a short scaly tail doing its best to wag enthusiastically while Ritsu is completely unaware of the movement. “It’s probably not! But even if it is, I have it on good faith that it’s a short lasting effect.” As much as Ritsu would like to say ‘no’, they also don’t want to deliver anything but the most accurate truth.

Ritsu watches Robin think it over as a grin spreads wider. They know what Robin’s consideration looks like! They know that look of ‘not wanting to say yes, per se, but definitely wanting to say yes’, and that means it’s a win for Ritsu as soon as Robin arrives at the destination.

“He-hee.” Come on, Robin, look at that smile. Utterly harmless! “Of course! I’ll clean you up with utmooooost dedication.” And since permission’s been given and they’re more than a little excitable, they hook an arm around Robin’s leg and knock him back onto the bed. Gently, of course, a surprise of a fall back rather than getting completely flattened.

Ritsu hops up and clambers over Robin, tail still wagging. “I have claws now, so you’ll have t’help me out a bit, okay?” They’re talented and careful, but not completely superpowered. Ritsu’s also impatient, having been fixated on this since they realized it was an option, so they gave Robin that warning but forgotten to give him much space to act on it. Ritsu kisses along his jaw, occasional nips simply to show off the elongation of their teeth, hands pushing Robin’s shirt up to his chest. Claws and scales over their fingers drag over Robin’s skin as Ritsu settles into their perch and shifts attention down Robin, from neck to midsection.

[quifaitmal]

forgot to make a pinned so here it is

nsfw sideblog for originlist. usual rules apply but tagging might be a little iffy. pwp allowed, pre-est relationships not necessary so long as one of us can sell the other on how a ship might exist lol. send an ask with a ship or prompt for a starter.

[quifaitmal]

nexarerum​.

“D-Don’t say that so loud… it’s embarrassing..”

“You say that right after saying you wanna get bred? My voice isn’t as loud as yours will be- if you wanna get creampied and held lovingly in my arms as I fill you up, ya gotta ask for it, you know.”

[quifaitmal]

nexarerum

but what if she wanted to be bred by ritsu.. lovingly...

“that can be arranged!”