#hahaaa it's meee

[wordstome]

kingdom come - i

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with

3.5k words

tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new

[NEXT]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.

p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.

Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.

You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.

You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.

A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.

The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.

They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.

As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.

You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.

You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.

The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.

Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.

To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.

Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.

This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.

You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?

Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.

You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.

Well. Parent.

But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.

Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.

It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.

And yet…people are happy.

The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.

You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.

And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.

You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.

To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.

Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.

You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.

“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.

He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.

When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.

You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.

He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.

After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.

You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.

Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.

You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?

Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.

Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.

Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.

Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.

"You shouldn't be here."

You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.

Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.

"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."

You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.

"This is quite a long way to wander."

Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.

"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"

"Mmm. You make a fair point."

Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."

"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."

"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"

Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.

"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.

You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?

"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"

You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."

"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.

"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.

He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."

You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."

And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.

Fuck. You forgot about this part.

You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.

You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.

"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.

"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.

"Well. Tonight won't be your first."

"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.

"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.

You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.

It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"

"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"

"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.

"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.

"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.

"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?

You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.

"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."

You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.

The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.

It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.

It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.

Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.

You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.

You plunge the dagger downwards.

In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"

You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!

You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.

"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."

"No." Yeah, you kind of had.

"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.

"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.

"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.

"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."

"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.

"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.

That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!

"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.

"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."

"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.

"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"

"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."

His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."

Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!

I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.

Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.

As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.

I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr

[daddys-chaton-noir]

Are we getting any more writing from you? Any other scenes? Fantasies? I’ll take anything tbh.

hahaaa u’re just buttering meee up.

um i’m gonna post the last part of the quiet game tonight & that’s it rly

i’d considered doing like…this skeleton/sketch of this thing that’s been bouncing around in my head for a few years. basically like stepford wife gets the pleasure of entertaining the local country club numbers type dealio. nothing new or innovative but the idea keeps returning

u can only blast them out u know

[gloopidooo]

HAHAAA THATS MEEE

Snado art trade for my good chum sage (gloopidooo) :] I was so INSPIRED!!

[buck-askbox]

I feel ya man, since I was very young I had what we thought was narcolepsy, but my sleep schedule was in fact inverted and now I sleep primarily during the day and am up all night. Being out of school allows for so much freedom in this aspect~

It does.  In my case i suffered an entire high school life of teachers violently shoving me off my place  when i would fall asleep and send me out of the room for being disrespectful. 

only for them later find out by the higher authorities that i had this shitty  condition, it was great to see them apologize tbh :y Of course it really sucked because who had to go to school till christmas? MEEE

now that i take my classes  from 2pm onwards sometimes 5pm i can have a better schedule and sleep the required 8 hours i need hahaaa and  i’m passing everything with 80 and above.

though i admit that now as i grew up and got better treatment i have it so under control i don’t need naps like before. when i do it’s because i went out or am sick.

but yeah  look man, sleeping disorders or not, being out of school is the best, i don’t care.

[planetex8-blog]

Welcome to Planet Ex

     Planet Ex is my imaginary world where some fantasies can be explored explicitly from yours truly Kyle Andre Ex. I’ve read some Erotica novels and many of them seemed VERY tame for my liking, so I decided to write some short scenarios of my own. This is my imaginary world where things happen that I don’t expect to happen in real life. This first scenario is one I wrote for an Ex of mine... I’m not saying whether it happened, or not... but it is a fun read ;). If you like it, come back for more.. I’ll probably make a new one Tuesdays. So now, there’s something to look forward to.  To my Ladieszszsz: I write this for your entertainment. It’s just a read. If you have a boyfriend, husband, or a crush etc, just picture yourselves in the scenario.  To my fellas: It’s still a fun read. You can always just copy the text, change the names in the scenario and BAM! I bet your lady will appreciate it.  Scenario Overview: Two Lovers decided to have a Play-date. So they played a game. I call this one... Planet Ex - Mr. Ex Says Knock-knock-knock.... *I opened the door*.."Heyyy" You - "Heyyy"... Me - So who are you looking for tonight: Kyle...Dre...or Mr. Ex? You - I'm looking for Mr. Ex tonight Mr. Ex - Well you know the rules...  Tell me why you are here? You - I want you to have your way with me... Mr. Ex - Are you absolutely sure about that? You - Yes Kyle I'm sure!!! Mr. Ex - Who's this Kyle you speak of? You - [Lol] I'm sorry. I meant Mr. Ex Mr. Ex - It’s okay I forgive you, but don't forget your manners now. You - Will you please have your way with me? Mr. Ex - So you wanna watch movies and play video games huh?... that could be my way tonight. You - ... Mr. Ex, Fuck me, please! Mr. Ex - Ahhh that's more like it. Come in, but leave your boots on... *We walk down to my room. I close and lock the door. Mr. Ex - We're going to play a game called, "Mr. Ex Says." It's like 'Simon Says' except you do whatever I say. All questions must be preceded with "Mr. Ex...", and all statements you make must be followed by "....Mr. Ex." If you say something inaudible like, "Mmmmm" or you moan, I'll let that slide. If you forget to say Mr. Ex before asking a question, you will be punished. If you forget to say Mr. Ex after a statement you will be punished. Am I understood? You - How will I be punished? Mr. Ex - I'm glad you asked, however, "How will I be punished Mr. Ex?" is what you should've said. *I grab a pillow and place it on the floor* Get on your knees and kiss me like you missed me. You smiled briefly then knelt down on the pillow. I began to pull down my pants revealing my flaccid penis staring at you in the face. You began advancing toward my penis with your lips when I interrupted you. Mr. Ex - Uh-uhn-uhn... No hands. Keep your hands behind your back. You have to earn your way back into using them.  You then began to surround the head of my dick with your plump lips. We both closed our eyes as your tongue began to massage my penis head. Your tongue massaged the tip of my dick slowly and wetly like a paintbrush over a canvas. And just like the frame of a canvas, my dick became hard in your mouth.  Mr. Ex - Mmmmmm... Use your hands. And suck me. You wrapped your hands around the back of my thighs as you began to slide my dick over your tongue. Your head then began to move back n forth, back n forth... sending vibrations through my body with every move you made with me in your mouth. I then wrapped your hair around my hands and slowly fucked your face; In... then out.... in... out.... in...in...in... You began to choke and cough spit all over my shaft. So I pulled out.  "Punishment served." You had a very peculiar smirk on your face as you wiped the drool-dripping-down the side of your mouth. Mr. Ex - Sit on the edge of the bed. *So you did, feet still on my floor. You - Can I take my jacket off Mr. Ex? Mr. Ex - Nothing in this life is free my dear... What will you give to get the right to take off your jacket? You - Mr. Ex I will give you the right to lick my pwetty-wil'-pussy. My eyes opened widely in surprise, as my dick throbbed with excitement. Mr. Ex - Take off the damn jacket! *And So you did and threw it on the floor.* I then grabbed you by your boots and raised your legs to the sky. You fell back onto my bed holding your titties over your sweater. I took off your boots...then your socks... then your pants... Mr. Ex - Close your eyes... *and so you did Before long you could feel a cool sensation coming from your right foot. Specifically your toes. You could feel me massaging your thighs with my hands while I sucked on your toes. The ice in my mouth produced a cooling sensation that began to send messages from your feet to your pussy...it said - You're next! Indeed she was... before long you could feel the cooled saliva from my mouth drip onto your semi-exposed vagina. I pulled your panties to the side and began to assault your clitoris ever so slightly with my tongue over and over again.. over some more.. and under.. left.. right .. up.. up.. down... your hands instinctively grabbed my head. I stopped. Mr. Ex - You should have asked me if you could grab my head. Now take off your top, then your bra.. and suck me. You seemed to be holding back laughter as you took off your sweater.. then your bra.. and then began to absorb me into your mouth. Before you could get too carried away with the spitting and slurping I stopped you. Mr. Ex - Get off of me. Get on your back and flex those long olympic legs for me You did exactly what you were told. I took a brief moment to just admire my dinner... *Moment over* I wrapped my lips around your skyward ankle as I slithered-my-snake up your slippery-slope. Pussy juices oozing over my dick: I try to keep my composure as your pussy grips my dick almost begging it cough out its white cold. *Inaudible noises* came from your mouth as our privates became privately intimate with one another. I then left your ankles alone and hovered over your face for more leverage to go deeper. I stared you in your eyes while I slid (8) ALLL of Meee..into.. Allll of youuu (8) (#John legend).. I grabbed you behind your neck. Mr Ex - Open your mouth.... I let the saliva from my mouth drip all the way down and into your mouth... You then swallowed and licked your lips... ["Fuuuuuckkkkk You're amazinggg!!" I thought to myself]... I began to fuck you faster now at a rhythmic pace. Moments into the sweat and bodies colliding I heard you let out a soft, "Fuuuuuck"... I stopped... Mr. Ex - Fuck isn't inaudible... You should've at least followed like "Fuuuuck...Mr. Ex" So I pulled out my hard cock. I noticed it was completely smothered by your pussy juices and so I said, "Suck us." You turned over and didn't hesitate for a moment to swallow my manhood into your mouth. I pulled my dick out of your mouth and began sliding it across your face as your nails dug into my ass. My dick began to feel cold...and it missed it's home... so I sent it home. Mr. Ex - I want your face-down-ass-up You then put your face into my pillow with your ass in prime position to receive my donation--- I donate... my hard slightly cold cock into your warm luscious lamp-filled home. There weren't actually lamps in your pussy, but once my dick was in it my vision became brighter. I then began to pound you from the back. Hard. Relentlessly with my hard cock. I began to smack your ass as my dick fucked you assiduously. At this point you were on all fours, so I grabbed you by the hair; I pushed my dick into you.. you pulled your pussy over me... You moaned. I groaned. I wined.. you grind... I fuckedd... you bucked... We came... Mr. Ex - When I fucked.. you bucked back... Thanks for taking me to Buck-Land You - "Fuck you!" lol Mr. Ex - I fuck you too baby <3 That concludes entry #1. I will have another next Tuesday. I hope you enjoyed yourself ;)..haa..hahaaa... MURAHAHAHAHAAA...

[couch-house]

allies to besties to family