#hand rope knitting

[meyanmy]

🌸New product ："夢幻珍珠"

這款手工編織手繩淺紫色的搭配,點綴了白色珍珠加以裝飾，整體給人一種典雅、浪漫的感覺。

🌸本店產品均出自於店主親手手作飾物

🌸靈活活動扣/扣繩 ｜歡迎DM or Message me

🌸絕對歡迎DM客製化｜度身訂做啱心水飾物（🧶歡迎自由搭配色調）

[rocknrollinbitchforu]

just made the list of christmas gifts I wanna make for my friends so if the bags under my eyes get exponentially darker you see nothing thanksss

[freakywrites]

Jjk men as subs

did ya hear me?!?! SUBSSSSSSSS WOOOOOOOO (I’m going crazy)

Yk the drill here are the warnings!! ;P

Character- nanami/gojo/suguru

Warning- UNEDITED smut! (Duh) dom reader (double duh) miss use of a human being (nanami) you can read it as fem reader but it’s kinda nb

I feel a little silly and goofy

—————————————

Kento Nanami - human furniture /toys/gagged/orgasm denial/soft dom reader

“Hello how may I help you?” You said sweetly to the person at the other side of the phone. “Mr.Nanami?- Oh, he is a bit busy at the moment.” You replied, setting the vibrators too high. A few whimpers escaped Kentos' gagged drooling mouth. Crossing your legs and placing a hand on his blonde hair, rubbing it gently, trying to soothe his nerves. “Mhm! Yes, I’ll tell him no worries.” You cheered before glaring down at the man that was trying to speak muffled words. “Ok have a nice day~” You spoke smoothly before hanging up.

you bent down to Kento’s face, pulling him gently by the hair. “Hmm last thing I remember is that chairs don’t talk, right? Or am I mistaken?” You said with a gentle voice as the man looked at you with dizzy adoration his face flushed to his forehead, drool hanging from his chin, dripping down to his flush neck.

You leaned on the desk head laying on your hand. You played with the remotes, one connected to the vibrator in his ass the other connected to the toy wrapped around his dick both vibrating intensely. Leaning down, you see his dick twitch inside the toy. You could tell he was close his pre was basically dripping out.

Nanami's body shakes, face hot. He is close so close he feels if he could get his release right now, he would faint. Feverishly, he twitched and hummed at the vibration. oh, how cruel you are. With a click of your tongue, you lowered the intensity of the vibration.

“Can't have you break so soon.” You coo, leaving light touches over his shoulder blade to the shell of his ear, then cupping his face, his brows knitted together eyes rimmed with glossy tears, basically begging you for the flash of bliss he needs. Feeling his shaky breath on your skin as he nuzzled into your palm, you grin.

"Be quite and I'll let you cum."

Suguru Geto - bondage /pegging/degrading/ hard dom reader

Suguru was tied up by red rope his arms behind his back and his face smushed to the ground, body twitch with every thrust of your hips. "That's it- taking it like the fucking slut you are." You said with gritted teeth griping his waist leaving cresent marks on his pale skin.

his head rose up, pink swollen lips moaning your name as you fuck him out his mind. "Ha-hah plea-please-please-please." Suguru pleaded his voice cracking and shaking feeling his head go fuzzy as he felt the throbbing climax rising hot from his groin to his neck and ears.

Suguru’s eyes rolled back as you stroked his worked-out dick crashing your hips deliciously against his ass. "C-Close!" He winced out the climax build up almost painful on his dick. His heavy breathing turning into bitchy little whimpers as you pick up the pace slamming into that sweet spot that made him see stars. "Your close again? What a dirty fucking bod you got Suguru." you teased flipping him over on his back to see his fucked-out face. Spreading his legs wide and pulling him closer to you, watching how he bit his lip when your eyes met.

"So, fucking pretty.” You say breathlessly, pulling one of his legs over your shoulder and leaning down to kiss his lips followed with a playful bite. "Make a mess for me ya?” You asked going down to his chest licking and sucking on his nipple earning a high-pitched whimpering hum. His body arches up as you bit gentle at his sensitive bud his eyes wide and mouth agape as he feels that tight coil in his stomach snap as he spurts out a hot load on his stomach. His body shakes and legs twitch as his last drops of cum spill out of his length as you fuck him through his orgasm. “Fuck- you came so much.” You said slowing down your thrusts kissing his jaw and corner of his lip, his face messy and sleepy.

“that’s it for today, ya?” You said, looking at the red panting man below you.

Satoru Gojo - voyeurism(you)/ feet kissing and licking foot job/ leg riding/brat taming

“F-fuck-need to cum.” Satoru bit his shirt between his teeth as he strokes himself blue eyes looking into yours as you sit pretty on the chair in front of him. “Such a foul mouth you got their Satoru.. is this really exciting to you?” You teased. “N-no you won’t let me fuck you.” He spat as he fist fucks himself. “Oh really? But this thing shows me you’re having fun.” You joke moving your foot to rub at his hard-on.

A rush of pleasure made Satoru shiver and moan out. “h-hah shit!- S-stop that!” He said, grabbing at your thigh, digging his nails into your plush skin. you hummed, stretching out a hand. You pat his fluffy white hair. “How can I? You’re so pretty when you're a mess.” You replied, looking down at the man as his hips grind on your foot desperately. “You’re being mean…” he grumbled as he glared at you through white lashes.

With a relaxed expression, you moved your leg away from him as you spoke. “Now would a mean person let you do this, or would a mean person get up and leave you to yourself?” Crossing your legs, you stare down at him, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration “your choice, Satoru.” You smile.

With a shaky sigh, he began to kiss your foot, starting from the heel to the toes, lapping at them as he stroked himself. He kissed up to your knee gasping when he feels the soul of your foot rub against his tip making him let out whimpers his hips moving up to reach your foot pre cum rubbing onto you. Satoru moved to grip at your thigh as he fucks onto you, dick rubbing at your leg smearing it with his wetness “f-finally” he grunts hips thrust wildely, impatiently for release. You soothe him by rubbing his hair and caressing his face tilting it up to see his light blush on his cheeks dipping your thumb into his mouth to press on his tongue.

Gojo gulped down his pride and pleaded. “O-ok! Stay, please - just... Let me finish - I’ll be good..” He begged, pawing at the chair, looking up at you with blush dusted over his cheeks. With an eye roll, you crumbled and sighed. “..Fine” Satoru’s face lit up, “but” you continued. “You can only cum with my leg- that’s it.” you smile warmly at the distraught looking man on his knees.

“Are you kidding me? No! I want all of you-plea-” You click your tongue. “Do you think you deserve to fuck me? Just this would be enough, yeah? Take it or leave it.” You spat. "Fine!” Gojo pouted, getting into a comfortable position. “Hold it, Satoru.” You said, pushing him away with your foot. “What? I’m doing what I’m told.” He sassed. You pulled up your leg. “Don’t you wanna saver it?” You joke earning an eyeroll from him, but he still obeyed.

“So pretty when you’re worked up” you coo watch the man twitch and gasp as he stares at you his face presses to your knee, his thrusts speeding up with the praise. “ha-ha-ah” he was vocal, his jaw clenched as he breathed in soon to loosen to release choppy moans. You roughly pull him by his hair leaning your body towards his giving him a deep and sloppy kiss which he returned with frantic need drool pooling from the corner of his lips pulling away you huff “that’s it pretty boy” you talk him through the erratic thrusts of his. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum” he said through gritted teeth and you hum rocking your foot up and down his shaft that was wet with saliva and pre cum. “Like a bitch in heat.” You murmur against his lips “come on satoru show me your worth yeah?”

The white haired man’s breath hitched as the burning of climax bursts. His body pulsing as a hot wave crashes through him his nails digging and roaming your skin as spirts of white cum smear on your foot dripping to the floor. You could feel the pulsing against your skin, and you hum as you watch his head drop to your lap

“there there wasn’t that good?” You said softly, rubbing as satoru grumbles and presses his face on your thigh.

—————————————

A/N: Hello did ya miss me? No? ;-;

ANYWAAAYSSS NEW POST >0< (brain rot)

my first time writing foot play and human furniture play… as well as bondage ….and leg ridding…. And pegging…. And…. I'm going to church tmrw :( (deadass)

Gojo was so hard to write sense how the FUCK do I write foot stuff? Is it counted as feet stuff??? Idk

loved everything I wrote here except Gojo’s so happy homie dead (jk…. A little bit ..srry not srry-)

Was gonna do more dudes but I no no wanna :(

BUT LOVE YALL XOXO 💋

[nanaslutt]

thinking about giving choso a handy while he drinks from ur full tits ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

cradling the back of choso’s head while he closes his eyes and whines against your leaking nipple as you jerk him off, the only lube on his cock being his own precum, dripping relentlessly down his cock and making a mess on your fingers.

his large hand is massaging your other breast, occasionally tweaking and pinching the nipple, making your mouth fall open in a small, pleasured o shape. choso’s moans vibrate against your sensitive nipples as he drinks up everything he can from your tits, not caring about the milk spilling from the side of his lips.

lots of “mm-mmm mmmm’s” and muffled groans echoing in his throat as he weakly thrusts his hips up into your hand, feeling his balls tighten with his impending orgasm after every stroke. his eyes and eyebrows knit together deeper as he relished in the feeling of your warm hand squeezing his cock just right.

there was nowhere else in the world choso would rather be but here. his hand squeezed your tit with a little more force than before when you focused on his tip, his precum frothing up around his tip, your speed increasing.

choso pressed himself harder against your tit, trying to get as close to you as possible as he felt himself get pushed over the edge. “cumming, c-cum-“ choso mumbled his words against your skin, his breathing rapid and high pitched.

he came with a long groan, stuck deep in his throat. roped of cum shot out of his dick as your slammed your hand down to the base, repeating the motion, forcing all of his seed out of his cock and onto his hard abs. choso whined and panted against your tit, only pulling away when his cum was thoroughly milked and he had nothing else to give.

the expression on the dark haired man’s face could be described by nothing else but contentment. he started at you like you hung the stars in the sky, mouth agape snd face wet with saliva and milk, cheeks dusted pink, eyes barely open. he looked so sleepy and spoiled, you couldn’t resist leaning down and pressing a long, sweet kiss on his forehead.

[reshinless]

I just wanted to say I LOVE your Kinich stuff so much. It makes me so happy to see people paying attention to him! I’ve read through almost all your Kinich posts and honestly I think you have his personality spot on. I also love the little inclusions of Ajaw in some of the writings. Anywho I had a little idea I thought fit him and figured you might like it :D

Kinich using his skill to tie down an enemy in a fight and you can’t help but get a little turned on at the thought of him wrapping his vines around you and letting him do whatever he wants to your body. （≧∇≦）

I don’t know if you have an anon list but if would love to be a 👾🪼🎐 anon (you can pick which one)

welcome 👾 nonnie 💜

your eyes linger back to your lover's as you both fought together. you couldn't help but let your imagination run wild, your mind illustrating every little detail about that rope he used to transport dendro into to hit the enemies.

gosh, maybe if he weren't so hot... you could just visualize—envisage how good it'd be to be tied up helpless in front of your boyfriend.

just musing the way his cold fingertips would touch and feel every curve he could see. "all f'me, baby?" your body almost twitched under his hold. every stroke down to your very core turning you on all the same.

"m- mmhm! all for you, kin'..." was the only thing you've been able to say so far.

he held you close with one arm, as the other one continued foreplay with your cunt. watching how it reacted in real time, and in the mirror in front of you two. the vine-like lines tied you down, and submissive to his rope.

"shhh, baby... not too loud. mualani right outside. don' want her to hear, do you?" you could feel his smirk grow even without looking up from the sight of the floor. pleasure the only sentiment on your mind.

you could feel something start to pool down to your core just thinking about it. or maybe he'd be a little rough with his sweet, flowery words. whispering your name... a kiss to your skin, scattering pecks down your back while his cock so angry, and mean, you could hear the sounds from the other houses. not to mention the moans you would let out.

vines only blooming with small flowers to signal that kinich was getting close. his grunts, and whines giving a few signs as well.

his hand hovered over your stomach, feeling the way his shaft reached, and kissed the deepest parts of you. "haah—you feel me inside ya, sweetheart?"

you don't know which you preferred more though, a more... softer—more vanilla kinich? or it could be the rougher side of him. oh well, as long as it was him, it's honestly hot either way.

he could do both, maybe you could last a few rounds. but you couldn't help cling onto his arm on the way home.

"...hey. you seem out of it. what's wrong?" his voice was quick, and caring. kindness clear in his voice.

"hah—kin'.." the very look in your way could tell him everything he needed to know. and before you acknowledge it, you're lifted up into his arms and he's swinging with you home.

the sappy sweet smile on your face was the opposite of the sentiment his cock sent through your hole. your entrance clenched harshly onto the shaft, his base giving fast thrusts nonetheless.

you were bent over the dining table you invited mualani to for dinner in a few hours. he can make this quick, I think.

your head threw back into the wood of the table, your arms helplessly flailing at your sides. eyes closed shut—his hands had such a gentle touch to your waist to hold you into place. your eyebrows knit each time you tried to open your eyelids, meeting his very eyes. piercing, dominance clear in his loving gaze.

"if you open your eyes—sweetheart... look at me at least..." one of his other hands floated over to your cheeks, helping you look, and maintain your eye contact with him.

even so, your umpteenth orgasm came and went... his hips were almost glued stuck to yours, his warm load shot up into your stomach. your back continued to arch, and so did his. archons—you've never felt better is all he's busy thinking about.

his cock slowly left you as he watched cum drip out of your sweet pussy, the urge to lick it all back in had to come for later, damn why'd you have to invite mualani...

he cleans you up well, letting you wear one of his clothes for the moment to wrap his arms around you and sit on the couch quietly. his head leaned onto his left as his left arm rang around your neck, holding you close.

the warm atmosphere almost icked mualani as she brought ajaw back from his walk.

"hmm. smells like pineapple in here... whatever, I brought your lizard back, (name) it's time for you to pay!" the girl cheered, drooling at the thought of your cooking. all the dishes you made tasted amazing, no matter what recipe anyone gave you!

kinich suddenly wakes up by the time you've left his arms to go to the kitchen and chat with the shark girl. oh well, he can wait until later.

[blurboki]

topping jisung based off yesterdays poll 😵‍💫😵‍💫

“shit- wait- babe hold oN-“ the words fall from jisung’s tongue in a needy whine, head thrown back displaying his adorable heart-shaped adams apple.

one hand gripping the sheets, the other holding your waist as you drop lower and lower, taking him deeper and deeper up till the hilt. yet while you shakily sigh with satisfaction, your boyfriend beneath you is ultimately quivering, lip pulled between his teeth while tears bead on his waterline.

fuck. he’s going to combust at this rate.

he’d promised after tour that he’d let you do whatever you wanted, but han hadn’t expected this. hadn’t expected to be pushed onto the bed the moment he stepped through the door, stripped down to only his boxers and absolutely spoiled with the best head of his life.

that was, before you stopped right before he came, giving his flushed head, leaking with buds of precum, a soft kiss.

the sound he let out? pornographic, hips frantically jutting upwards in search of friction, anything to reach his high.

and you gave him the innocent, most fuckable expression imaginable, pulling your laced panties to the side to align yourself and sink.

now to the present with your cunt filled to the brim with him, han heaved, pinpricks of sweat decorating his forehead while he tried holding himself together.

“relax baby, i’m gonna make you feel good.”

no. that was his line when you took him from behind, face pressed into your pillow while he cooed at how pretty you looked being such a slut. not like this, where he was begging instead, pupils blown watching you bounce like you’re life depended it.

“a..ah, ‘m glad you’re home, ‘missed you—“ you babble, leaning down to kiss his parted lips so he can taste himself on your tongue.

whispering so sweet about how you missed him makes him want to fucking ruin you. makes him want to make you his over and over till all you can say is his name.

brows knitting with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, he takes control of the roll of your hips, securing a orgasm-worthy view of your hole eagerly swallowing him which earns a low groan rumbling at the back of his throat.

“‘missed you, bub. ‘missed my cock, yeah?

fuck. he’s convinced you’re the fuckin’ cutest when you go dumb on his cock, too caught up in pleasure to properly reply while deliciously squeezing him with that warm cunt of yours.

patting the skin of your ass, he lands a not-enough-to-hurt but firm slap there, soaking up the cry you whine in return.

“use your words, baby. tell me.” middle finger expertly delving to spell his name on your puffy clit, he watches you unravel, movement uncontrollably stuttering as you chase approaching euphoria faster than ever before.

“oh my god oh my god sungie-— hngh, missed you so much inside of me. ugh, please! come inside. c’mon, come inside.” your words are rushed, eyes already beginning to roll back, nails raking his chest.

your voice, your scent, the downright sinful sound of your bodies rutting against each other, he’s quite literally moaning at this rate—fingers digging into your hips so hard you’ll have bruises, but neither of you can think, too focused on the mind-numbing ecstasy to consider anything else.

“gonna fill you up so well, ‘kay bub? stuff you full of me.” it’s jisung’s turn to whine, pushing you down atop him to take his hot ropes of his cum that drool onto his thighs from where you stay connected.

best part? he kept rubbing your swollen bud back n forth, chuckling when you creamed all over yourself and him that he’d certainly make you get on your knees and lick up later.

blurboki, july 2023 ©

[ddejavvu]

Hi! You said you wanted shy/scaredy cat reader and Tyler Owens request :) feel free to ignore this!

Maybe Tyler brings her around to something kind of like a meet and greet (I haven’t seen the movie, but kind of like whatever was happening during the “if you feel it, chase it” part of the trailer) or they are out somewhere and he gets ‘mobbed’ by a few people who recognize him and she is just feeling very out of her element? Maybe just Tyler being sweet about it to her?

Idk if this makes sense! Feel free to ignore it!! :)

Taking Candy From a Baby - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You're typically one to hang back and relax in the passenger's seat of Tyler's truck when it's time for him to start rousing rounds of chanting about feeling and chasing and fearing and riding. You're simply more comfortable with a seatbelt on and a window between you and Tyler's adoring fans, because tornado wranglers are not typically the types of people you feel safe around. Tyler- well, Tyler had roped you in with his gentle hands and soft brown eyes before breaking the news that he shoots fireworks into tornados for a living. All that to say, you typically feel out of your element when Tyler engages with his fans.

He knows this, and typically you're undisturbed while he has Boone pump his gas so that he and the rest of the crew can mingle with fans, sign autographs, and sell t-shirts. This time, though, when he opens the driver's side door he doesn't climb in, and instead he offers you a hand.

"Come in with me, darlin'?"

"Hm?" You look up from your phone, brows knitting together in confusion as you take his outstretched hand. He squeezes it with a saccharine grin instead of pulling, which you're grateful for before you know what you're getting into.

"Come get snacks and drinks with me in the station?" He nods to the small building to the left of the pumps, and the brightly-colored wrappers of candies and chips are appealing at a glance, "Lily says they've got crazy Lay's flavors, and they've got the energy drinks I like. We can stock up on goodies before we head out, how's that sound?"

"0kay," You nod, before you have a chance to say no. There's something sickly and rancid twisting in your belly, tendrils of anxiety latching into the walls of your stomach and sticking tight, but Tyler's hand holds steady to yours and you're not going to let a small crowd of people hold you back from novelty potato chips.

Stepping down out of the truck and jumping from the runner to the dingy concrete is the next step in an ongoing mission to break out of your shell. Tyler is so- well, he's the complete opposite of you, and he's always been careful to adapt to your more introverted ways. Now, though, you're dreadfully self-conscious about ensuring that you're adapting to him, as well, and if that means you have to nod and smile at his adoring fans to get him to a refrigerated case of energy drinks, so be it.

You're wearing a pair of Tyler's broken-in boots, old ones that happened to fit you better than the fresh pair he'd bought for you. He's doing the work of breaking in the new ones, and you admire his willingness to stomp around in boots with a 1-inch heel on the sole so that you can be saved from blisters. Boots are just uncomfortable to wear if they're not broken in first, and you don't romp around enough yourself to soften the leather.

Both pairs of your boots click against the concrete and heads turn, but only a few are bold enough to approach. You're not sure if your hand tightens around Tyler's or vice versa, but when one opens their mouth you're paling Tyler's tan hands with your grip.

"Tyler, is this the missus?" One woman asks, clinging to the hand of her own beau, "You're gorgeous, honey."

Tyler laughs for you, bumping his shoulder into yours as you rush to thank the woman, "Mhm. This's my girl. You two drivin' out with us?"

"The whole family is." The man nods, clearly ecstatic to be speaking to Tyler, "We've got the three kiddos in the car. And the dog. This is one leg of our family road trip for the year! But we're keepin' out of the storm's way, of course. We're gonna end up in Kentucky and visit some of my family."

"Well enjoy Kentucky," Tyler nods, his grin on full blast as he nods politely to the couple, "And you tell those kids'uh yours Tyler Owens says hello."

"We will!" The woman gushes, and you're grateful when Tyler begins walking again, breaking off from the couple. He manages to get cornered again before you're fully inside the gas station doors, but he lets your hand go to sign an autograph for the fan.

"Head on inside, honey," He nods at the station, "Pick out some crazy chips for me, m'kay?"

You're relieved for the respite that you're granted upon stepping into the air-conditioned gas station, and you follow Tyler's orders with your head down so as not to attract attention. You're barely able to reach the junk food aisle before a little boy rams straight into your legs, and you dart forwards to grab his arm before he can topple over.

"Oh! Are you okay?" You ask, peering carefully at his chubby face, dark curls wound close to his scalp. He nods, and you let go of his arm, glancing upwards to see his mother standing over him with a reproachful gaze.

"I'm sorry, honey," She gushes, and her voice must be straight honey for the way it oozes sweetness, "I told him not to run but, well, you know how that goes. Hey, aren't you the girl who was sittin' in Tyler's truck?"

Your heart starts pounding at the thought of another fan interaction, but you're spared from answering when you feel something poking against your leg. The little boy, no older than two, you're sure, is offering you a candy bar, big brown eyes hopeful as he clutches the silver wrapper.

"You sayin' sorry for nearly tripping her, Ty?" The woman laughs, then looks back up at you, "We- uh, well, his daddy's a big fan of Tyler. Tyler actually- he saved my husband a few years ago from a big storm, not that he even knew it. My husband was driving to work one day and he saw Tyler's truck pass him on the road. He'd heard of his hobby, y'know, chasin' storms. He thought if a tornado wrangler was heading the same way he was, he should probably go somewhere else. He got off the road and missed an EF-3 headed his way. So when he was born," She nods down at the baby still offering you a wrapped sweet, his other hand clutching your jeans, "We thought it'd be nice to name him after your man."

The candy wrapper is smooth and cool against your hands as you take it from Baby Tyler, and the boy gives you a grin consisting of six teeth in total when you stick the candy in your basket.

"Thank you," You croon down at the baby, "I'm- I'm glad your husband is safe. I'm glad he was smart enough not to follow Tyler."

"Who says followin' me's dumb, darlin'?" A large hand lands on your shoulder, and you startle before you register that it's Tyler.

"I do," The woman laughs, smile crinkling her eyes, "If you're drivin' into a tornado, that is."

"Dumb's more exciting," Tyler shrugs, "Who's this little one?"

"Tyler," You and the woman answer in unison, and your Tyler grins.

"Nice name, bud," He offers a balled-up fist to the baby who slaps his palm against it in an attempted high-five, "You're smart, hangin' around in the candy aisle."

Baby Ty babbles and toddles away, mom hurriedly following in his shaky footsteps, "Sorry, he's on the move. It was nice meeting you!"

Your voice is strong when you call back, "It was nice meeting you, too!" And Tyler looks impressed by that as he stares at you and your lone candy bar.

"Three Musketeers?" He asks, and you nod.

"Baby Tyler gave it to me."

"That's sweet." He hums, "You weren't nervous talkin' to 'em?"

"They were nice," You shake your head, leading him for once as you take his hand and steer towards the energy drinks, "And he was a really cute kid.”

“Mm, yeah? Y’know, we could make some really cute kids. ‘Specially if I’ve got a few of these,” Tyler holds up the energy drinks he’s selected from the fridge, “Forget wranglin’ tornadoes, darlin’, tonight I’m gonna be wranglin’ you.”

[buckyalpine]

Dry humping chubby Bucky

Just imagine dry humping with subby chubby beefy Bucky. Using him for your pleasure, moaning and whining while you hump and grind yourself all over him. He’s a shy baby who can’t believe someone who looks like you would be so into someone like him. No amount of convincing works, which is how you both ended up on the couch with you straddled on his lap, rubbing yourself on his achingly hard length. 

You worship him, whispering the sweetest words while taking your clothes off one by one, leaving you in just the tiniest pair of lace panties, rubbing your clit right where the tip of his cock rests in his pants. 

“You’re so pretty like this, big boy” Your hands grip onto his thick shoulders, your fingers toying with the hair at the nap of his neck, tugging it every so slightly. His face is flushed, pink lips parted, gasping every time you move just right, his balls heavy, “My pretty baby boy” 

“Oh God” He whimpers, feeling spurts of precum drip from the tip, his entire body throbbing from how good it feels. At some point you lean back, grasping onto his thighs, putting your body in display for him while you continue to swivel your hips on his erection and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. 

“Fuck, James” You chant and moan his name, brows knitted together, refusing to take your eyes off him because he’s the one who makes you feel this good. You get off just getting to rub yourself on him and he better know it. He hesitates to touch you but when you throw your arms around his neck again, your breasts practically in his face, he can’t help but grab onto you. 

“Angel” He warns as best as he can, his cock his leaking and making a mess in his his pants, he’s going to blow his load if you don’t stop but you grind down hard on him and circle your hips. “S-slow down, I-please” 

He doesn’t want to blow just yet, he loves how you worship him, you turn into such a needy slutty kitten, making him feel so good and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he came in his pants like a little boy. He tries so hard to hold on, to stop himself from cumming but you make it impossible. 

You notice his hands grip you harder, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, chest heaving up and down. You let out a moan right by his ear at his cock swells, balls pulling tight to his body. Before he could say anything, sticky ropes of his spend throb out his cock from where your pussy humps him perfectly. 

He buries his face into your bare chest, taking a nipple into his mouth to muffle his moans, his hips stuttering from underneath, his large form under you squirming and trembling. You register his needy ministrations, hiding his face between broken moans, puffs of air hitting your warm skin as he pants. You pause your movement, your hands coming up to his face, pulling him away from your chest. 

“Did you cum baby?” You cup his scruffy cheek, making him look at you, his sweet blue eyes looking at you with shyness, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears. He nods, refusing to meet your eyes while you coo, kissing his face before capturing his soft lips. All he can do is nod, still looking away from you, nervously squeezing your hips in his large hands. 

“Sorry, I couldn't hold it” He whispered making you fall in love with him more. 

“Did it feel good, handsome?” Your nose bumped against his, loving the smile that graced his lips, blinking up at you. “I want to make you feel good, baby” 

His eyes grow wide when you slink off his lap and start to tug at the waistband of his pants, urging him to lift his hips so you can pull them down to his knees. He wants to squeeze his thighs shut, he isn’t even hard anymore. He doesn’t think you’d want to look at him when he’s soft, made a mess all over himself. 

“Angel, what are you-”

“Gotta clean you up, big boy” You take his softening cock, covered his silky cream into your mouth, lapping him right up, loving the slutty, desperate moan he lets out. He’s so sensitive, body jolting with each lap of your tongue but you’re not gonna be finished with him until he gets how perfect he is for you. 

Anyway. 

[saotoru]

cockwarming him

re2, re4 leon x fem reader

cw bondage, masturbation. minors dni

re2 leon

you’ve been sitting on leon’s cock for what feels like hours now, unmoving, leaving him helpless beneath you. the rope that binds his wrists above his head keeps him from touching you, from letting him cup your tits and kiss them the way he wants to. his eyebrows knit together almost like he’s in pain and he lets out a whimper, trying to buck his hips up, anything to feel some friction. “baby please.”

all he can do is watch as your hand trails down that pretty tummy of yours down to your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. a noise leaves his throat as he feels your pussy squeeze around him, and leon nearly lets out a sob, his abdomen flexing in attempt to weakly thrust his hips. his wrists strain against the rope as he tries to touch you, wanting so badly to replace your hands with his and knead your tits and rub that pretty clit, but he can’t. it's pure torture, even worse that he has to feel it too, every clench of your pussy making him let out a frustrated whine. “fuck angel, don’t do this to me, please. need you so bad i can’t take it, fuck me baby please-“

maybe it’s his begging, maybe it’s because your fingers aren’t enough, but he lets out a choked cry you finally fuck yourself on him, bouncing and rolling your hips onto his over and over. “oh my god,” he slurs, his head lolling back and hitting the headboard with a thump. it feels too good, he can’t help but twitch his hips up to meet yours, fucking so deep into your sticky heat that his eyes roll to the back of his head. he's so close already, so sensitive from being buried inside you for so long. his abdomen tenses and it’s not long before he’s cumming thick, hot ropes into you, watching it coat your thighs as you fuck him through his sensitivity.

re4r leon

leon loves to cockwarm after he returns from a long mission. he loves to keep you seated on his cock while he runs his hands all over your body like he’s trying to commit every little detail of you to memory. maybe he is, because in a few days he’ll be replaying how soft you felt when he leaves again, this time for spain. so let him take his time, let him worship you and revel in your softness before it’s gone all too soon.

“missed you, pretty girl,” he murmurs as he leans forward, lips soft as he kisses all over the underside of your tit, his hand kneading the other. “so much.” you let out a gasp, and that’s a sound leon’s missed. he needs to hear more, wrapping his lips around a nipple and sucking gently, letting his tongue flick against it until it's hard. he groans feeling you clench around his cock but doesn’t move an inch, gripping the fat of your hip tightly to keep you from grinding too much.

it’s too tempting to start thrusting inside you, especially with the way you’re whimpering his name, but leon needs to feel you cum, needs to make up for all the time he was gone. so he brings a hand down to your clit to soothe your ache, rolling it between his fingers and making you moan so pretty for him, a sound leon knows he’ll think about when he’s alone on his next mission and stroke his cock to, wishing he was in this moment with you again.

[getosbigballsack]

Ceo Husband Gojo Satoru x Stay at home wife Reader-chan

Random thought but just imagine foreplay with your husband Gojo Satoru before sex. It’s not unusual for you to engage in foreplay with your husband Gojo. But there’s just something so different about today, because here he is whispering against your skin, “I want to see you play with yourself, doll.” 

“Satoru… honey, I’ve… It's been a while since I… I,” you stuttered, trying to find the words to say, but you couldn’t, not when his hot wet lips and tongue harshly sucked against your skin, forming of his many, MANY love bites.

“That’s fine, we’ll do it together,” he whispered. “But first, grab my cock and play with it a little.” And who were you to deny your husband of such sweet pleasure. Your smaller delicate hand wrapped around his shaft, your fingers not even close to touching with how massive your husband is. He never ceases to amaze you with the size of his cock, even though you’ve been with him for almost nine years. 

Slowly, you glided your hand up and down his shaft, feeling as the skin of his cock moved with every gentle stroke. You could feel the bump of his prominent veins rubbing against your palm, the tip of his cock leaking whenever you pressed your thumb against the slit. As you continued to stroke his massive cock, felt his hand gently wrapping around your hand. “Doll, look at me,” he whispered against your skin once more before pulling away and watching as you slowly turned to look at him. “You feel that, do you feel how much my cock is leaking and twitching to be inside of you.” 

“Yes… you’re leaking so much,” you whispered back at him, grunting softly when he began to guide your movements with his hand, pumping his cock a bit faster. He began moaning, his eyes boring into yours, never breaking contact. Oh no, he wanted you to see what you do to him as he used both yours and his hand to get off. 

“Satoru, baby,” You called out to him, eyebrows knitting together as you watched as his plump kiss swollen lips slowly parted to release his whining, yet masculine moans. “Kiss me please.”

“No… not ugh fuck! Not yet. I want to look into your eyes when I cum,” he muttered between staggered breaths. He’s slowly falling before you, you like he’s done many times before. “Fuck, baby… Y/N I’m about to fucking cum,” he grunts, his hand moving your even faster up and down his shaft. His legs that were at either side of your legs began trembling, cock twitching violently in both your hands until thick ropes of cum spurted from the tip and onto your hands. 

As breathlessly as he is, he finally leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, slowly moving with yours. Your mind went into a haze as he deepened the kiss, your wet tongues slowly wrapping around each other while he removed both your hands from around his cock, smearing his cum all over your nipples, your tummy, moving all the way down as he thread his fingers between yours until both hands were on your wet cunt. 

“Go on doll. It’s your turn now, touch yourself,” he whispered against your lips as he pressed yours and his middle finger on your clit. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, feeling your own clit throb beneath your finger as Gojo guided the tip to move in slowly tantalising circles . It’s been exactly eight years since your last masturbation. So this is all foreign to you now. 

“Such a wet pussy,” Gojo groaned, feeling a bit of arousal coating his finger with every stroke of your clit. 

“My hus… ugh Satoru, this is weird, but… it feels good,” you cried out, finally breaking away from his lips to look down between your legs to watch as your finger played with your clit before your husband. 

A smirk fell upon his lips, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he watched both yours and his finger soaked themselves a bit more with your clear sticky arousal, as he slowly massaged your clit. You gasped, feeling the nub tremble at your touch, your pussy becoming more aware, more sensitive from each gentle stroke. 

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, doll,” He whispered as he leaned forward to capture your lips once more, greedily devouring and swallowing all your delicious whimpers and cries of pleasure. 

Slowly he moved your fingers from your clit to push digits inside your clenching wall. Yet again you pulled away from his lips, another moan erupting from the sudden action. “Ugh! Mhm… God… that feels… feels.”

“I know, your pussy feels good around our fingers, baby girl,” he whispered, slowly pumping in and out of your hole, watching as more clear liquid dripped from your entrance a clear indicator of how fucking turned on you were at that current moment. 

“Satoru… Baby please,” you cried out for more, legs twitching slightly as he sank both your fingers inside your cunt. Your hips buck slightly, slowly rotating to help him penetrate you even further. 

“Oh, so desperate, doll. Wanna put another finger in?” he asked and quickly you shook your head yes without even thinking. Not until his index finger tangled itself with yours, coating themselves with your love juices and the next thing you know he’s not sinking four fingers inside your cunt. 

Your body began trembling, hips bucking yet again and yours rolling to the back of your head, feeling your pussy burn from the four fingers that were plunging in and out, in and out at such a teasing yet pleasurable pace and stretching the walls of your tight cunt.

This is not what you expected when he suggested that you masturbated in front of him. It was becoming too much for you, too overwhelming but at the same time, you wanted more and more, because you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life. 

“Such slutty noise your pussy is making,” he groaned. 

You whimpered, getting more turned on at the sound of both of your fingers messing around inside your pussy. “It hurts… but it feels so good Satoru baby… Give me MORE! I want ugh more,” you moaned, voice cracking in process. 

And he smirked, curling both your fingers as he plunged deeper, fingers pushing against your g-spot and you could feel the pressure building up, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. Desperate for the release that was approaching, your unoccupied hand found his thighs and you dug your nails within his skin. 

Your eyes rolled back once more, fresh tears wetting your flustered. You’re breathing rapidly, the heat in your tummy increases and just as you were about to have the orgasm of your life, your husband yanked yours and his fingers from your cunt, ruining your orgasm. 

But not for too long though, because just as you were about to complain and banish him from the bedroom, he was already laying down flat on his back and his hand on your waist quickly mandhanding you until your pussy was hovering over his mouth. 

“Sit,” he said and who are you to disobey? You held onto the bed head, slowly sitting your dripping pussy on his open leaking mouth. 

“Hgh shit,” you moaned, feeling his tongue lapping and sucking harshly at your folds, desperately trying to get you to the point of orgasm once more. “Fuck- Fuck,” you groaned yet again, feeling that heat you felt before building up once again. Slurping, sucking the wet noise of his mouth on your cunt, and the sounds of your breathless moans filled the room. 

“Mhm, fucking delicous,” he mumbled against your pussy lips, moving his hand from your waist to grip and spread your ass cheeks. “Come on doll, ride my face. I know you want to. I’m even gonna stick my tongue out for you.”

And oh you did, quickly grabbing onto his hair to keep his head still, then you lifted your hips, then slowly sank back down on his waiting tongue, feeling the wet hot muscle parting your fold and sinking into your cunt. You started riding his face, moving up and down and in circular motions, all while his tongue fiddled with your clit or deliciously licked at your clenching pussy ways. 

Your back arch, legs twitching once more, “I’m about to cum, I’m about to fucking cum… oh god, oh god. Satoru baby I can’t I can’t,” you cried out while still moving your hips, but not without your husband holding on your ass cheeks, guiding your hips. 

“Let’s go baby, go on squirt on my fucking face,” he said, eyes gleaming up at you as he watched as you turned putty above him. He gonna have so much fun, fucking your sensitive, stretched out and disgustingly wet pussy when he’s done with your here. 

“I’m cumming… Imma cu,” your voice got caught in your throat, went stiff, yet they’re slightly trembling as your pussy contracts and bursts clear liquid all over your husband’s face. You couldn’t move, couldn’t stop the following damp from soaking his face. 

It’s not like he minded, at all he swallowed every bit of liquid that entered his mouth, no matter the taste or what it was. 

Anyways, after you were done squirting all over his face, you’re surprised to see that you are already on your back, leg folded onto your chest and Gojo heavy cock beating at your sensitive pussy. 

“You gonna let me sink in?”

[mattsdolll]

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 - 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

sub!matt, soft!dom reader

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 . . pure smut, no plot, p in v, unprotected sex, sub matt my beloved !

858 words

enjoy🤍

you grinded your hips against his now aching dick, leaking precum profusely. he let out a pathetic whimper, clutching your hips tight enough to bruise the soft flesh.

"fuck, angel please..you're killing me here, can't do this"

he pleaded through dampened eyelashes, wet from his own tears. you exhaled shakily, relishing in the sight of your boyfriend so needy for you to just touch him. you were, of course, rubbing yourself all over his cock, but you weren't letting him inside of you. that's what was killing him.

you massaged your pussy along his cock teasingly, your pace picking up. you felt him twitch beneath you, a pretty moan falling from his swollen lips. his lips were as red as his tip, from biting down on them so hard. the sight of you naked before him was enough to drive him insane.

he firmly helped your hips to grind better, needing the friction. he was oh so desperate for this. he bucked his hips up into you, a spurt of precum spilling from his tip once again.

"so needy..this all for me?"

you coo softly, scratching your nails through his hair. casually picking up your pace draws a series of whines from the boy. he nods frantically, begging for more. how could you deny his sweet requests?

"p..please, please, need to cum so bad"

he begged, his cock twitching more by the second. he was teetering on the edge, so close to getting that sweet relief he so desperately craved. you teased him by gripping the base of his dick, gliding his tip over your slick folds. he whimpered lustily, his eyebrows knitting together in pleasure.

"do you think you deserve this, matty? i don't think you do.."

you drawl out teasingly, letting his dick flop back against his stomach as you grinded slowly on it. he choked out a sob, the pain and pleasure becoming all too much. but only good boys got to cum, right?

"i suppose you've been a good boy for me, hm? how about i just.."

you align his aching tip with your hole, slowly sinking down to the base of his sex. tears brimmed his eyes as his cock filled you up. he fit so snugly into your hole. if he wasn't so overstimulated he'd comment on how your pussy was made for him.

you began bouncing up and down, slowly at first to not make him cum too fast. he began grinding up into you, driving himself deeper into you. you moaned at the feeling, almost losing yourself.

"shitt, baby.."

he mumbled, groaning deeply. the sound rumbled from his chest, his eyes rolling shut. he soon opened them when he heard your shirt being discarded to the floor. he marveled at the image of your tits bouncing with every thrust he gave, nearly cumming on the spot.

"need to hold my hand? you look like you're losing y'self, matt"

you tease with a sly grin. he was so needy. he didn't even care how pathetic he looked, in tears from how hard you'd made him. maybe it was the way you purposefully brushed against him in the mall earlier every time you needed to get past him, or the fact that you kept bending over to reach things, but he'd been fighting the urge to bend you over and fuck you in the middle of the store since he laid eyes on you that morning.

he reached for your hand, interlacing your fingers together, urging you to keep bouncing on his dick. you kept your pace steady, trying to ignore how his tip hit your sweet spot every time he moved. you wanted to make him feel good, an apology for making him so worked up all day.

"you're such a good boy for me, baby, so good, love this fuckin' dick"

you mutter praisingly, a gasp leaving his lips. he was undeniably twitching harder at your words, making you smile to yourself.

you could tell he was close by the fact his thrusts grew sloppier, you bounced faster on him, drawing a low, guttural moan from his throat as he spurted long white ropes of cum inside you. he didn't even get a chance to warn you, the second your hips collided with his he was done for.

"fuck- fuck! ohh shittt.."

you let out a high pitched whine, your own arousal spilling from your pussy, all down his hips and cock. he bounced you faster on his dick, fucking you through both your orgasms.

he lazily rolled his hips against you, supporting your weight with his hands. he flipped you over to pull out, doing so slowly and with care. he spilled the rest of his cum onto your stomach, his remains seeping out of your wet hole.

you couldn't even be upset, that was the best sex you'd had in a while. you gave him a weak smile, your fucked out expression making him spiral. you snuggled into his sweater, tossing it over your exposed body.

"thanks matty"

you muttered softly, your eye fluttering shut. he knelt down to your core, cleaning your - or his mess up.

. . .

tags !

@mattscoquette @blahbel668 @emely9274 @pearlzier @wompwomp-1 @bernardsgfs @sturnsxplr-25 @aesthetixhoe @jetaimevous @alyrasturnz

[ayyy-pee]

blaming @g00miato's latest art for this!!! I CANNOT THINK STRAIGHT

did not proofread this shit. i had to pump out SOMETHING or i was going to explode

god i know choso loves being overstimulated. he fucking loves the feeling of having his hands tightly constricted behind his back while your hand strokes his cock. and he's sweating and panting, gasping for air. his legs shake, his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth so hard and his dick fucking aches because you're about to give him his third, maybe fourth orgasm of the night? no, definitely his third. actually...he's not sure. he's lost track but either way, choso doesn't know if he has another drop to give you.

the first one was great - his entire length down your throat as he filled your esophagus with his hot seed. and you took it all like the good girl you always are for him. oh he loves to watch the way your brows knit together, how you try to open your mouth more, how your throat stretches to swallow every bit he has to offer. fuck, he could watch you like this all day.

the second one was even better - you, straddling him, bouncing on his dick like you had something to prove. and maybe you did because that filthy mouth of yours was whispering nasty words into his ear, those hands of yours gripped his shoulders as you rode him so hard, he was seeing stars. he'd love to be able to touch you right now, put his hands on your ass and help you because he knows your legs are tired. but you're determined to keep his hands bound as that hot tongue of yours keeps dipping into his mouth, letting him taste himself on you. you had his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he buried himself as deep as he could into your pretty pussy and groaned out a low "fuuuuuck-" just before he stuffed you full of him.

but it's this third go around that has choso struggling, shivering and begging for you to give him a break.

"p-please, baby wait, i-" he can't stop his hips from bucking up into your hand. "it's too...ah-" your tongue presses against the head of his cock and his actual head is spinning. "fuck!"

"one more, cho. just one?" you ask sweetly, pouting those cute lips of yours. and choso wants nothing more than to be free of these stupid fucking ropes so he can kiss you, but -

"i- i can't" choso pants. "fuck baby, please. i can't do it. can't cum-"

"you can." the sweetness is gone from your voice, hands pumping his dick, the slippery sounds of every stroke filling the room. "one more and i promise i'll untie you. otherwise, we'll be here until you do"

and when you talk to him like that, all firm and determined...oh, it does something to him. it sends shivers up his spine and blood rushing straight to his dick. and it's painful, so painful he feels the hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, feels his breath catching in his throat and it's all too much. too much sound, too much pain, too much of everything.

but then he looks down at you, staring up at him like he is the most beautiful when he's like this. putty falling apart in your hands. and you look so proud because you know. you know even before choso does that his back is going to arch one last time, those hands are going to pull on those restraints behind his back, desperately trying to free himself of his feeling one last time, and you're going to open your mouth for him while he blows his load onto your tongue one last time, even if it is a measly and pathetic amount.

doesn't matter that you've milked him dry one last time, that you've got him sobbing and whimpering loudly as his release rips through him one last time or that it will never be one last time for choso.

because even as his body twitches and he's trying to catch his breath and stop his cries, he'll ask if you want to do this again soon.

[qvrcll]

summary: with your subsequent marriages, you assumed that whatever friendship, and within it, desire and longing, you had with aemond in childhood had long since dissolved. but a dragon rarely ever yields.

warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD, childhood friend, non-targ reader, young betrothals, forced marriage mentioned, targcest marriage (a/h), possessive themes, dark aemond, (kinda) exhibitionism, finger in p, p in v, breeding kink, infidelity, cursing, slight dub-con but not really, aegon is a sorta decent friend if not a present and worthy husband, no dance of dragons

wc: 6.2K

author’s note: just watched ep 5 and i still stand by my slightly psychotic, slightly convoluted, wholly ambitious princess, but he’s on thin ice – aegon has suffered enough! you’ve made your point as king regent. this lowkey came to me in a melatonin-induced dream so excuse the errors if there are any, i haven’t written for this man since 2022! also, i’m so sorry aegon lol but then again, there is nothing more than friendship between him and reader – it’s just the principle that stings. oops :,) / dividers by strangergraphics

Carriage rides were always a handful.

More-so now, that you were a mother, cupping the back of your child’s head and bouncing him eagerly on your lap to keep him from fright, whilst your husband sat beside you, sticking his finger between the ridge of the little boy’s top lip and nose in a manner of teasing.

Rhaekar was a name that both you and Aegon had agreed upon. A fine name for a fine baby boy.

Fresh out of the womb and nursed delicately against your breast, Aegon’s usually frivolous and disengaged habits had quelled at the low cries that left the tiny bundle of cloth at your breast. He had uncharacteristically poked his head up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the little wrinkled flesh, slick with blood and fluid.

He is tinier than I expected, he had said in a hushed tone, his ringed finger delicately tracing the fat of the newborn’s cheek, as if afraid to hurt it.

Most babies are, if not smaller, you had smiled.

It really was no secret. Your marriage with Aegon was not bourne out of love, nor willingness. He had detested duty, and you had grown cold at the thought of a loveless marriage. Even as you stood at the Sept steps, clothed head to toe in white that mirrored the marble of fresh-tasting cream frosting, cloaked in the regal cream of the Targaryen colours, the two of you had been too young to absolve or deny such a proposition.

But the years passed to prove that friendship could sprout in the absence of love. Aegon did not love you in a way you had hoped to be loved by someone, anyone. But he loved his son, and the friendship you held with him was near enough.

“He’s going to drool all over you,” you fuss gently, watching as your son takes his father’s finger into his two hands and grasps it like rope. A laugh is pulled out of Aegon – adoration is clear in his light irises.

“Do not worry, my dear boy,” Aegon drawls, broad and toothy smile catching the lines on his face, “Your father doesn’t mind.”

“He has grown.”

The third voice is a surprise, if anything. Yet it strikes a deep cord within you, familiarity bubbling in your chest at the age-old smooth voice, curved syllables.

Aemond.

You had been mildly conscious of his presence, and with him, Helaena, sitting across from you in the carriage. It wasn’t customary to be lodged in a single carriage like so, but with the destination being the annual hunt and Rhaekar’s name day, the family would need to be close. Well-knit as they walked out of the carriage for appearances.

Yet, you cannot help but hold Aemond’s one-eyed gaze for one second too necessary, to notice how he watches the three of you like a hawk.

Aegon breathes in softly, clearly distracted by the little babbling boy as he hauls him out of your lap at the arms and takes to playing with him more efficiently. You’re left to answer his brother’s question with a simple smile.

“The Maesters say he is growing up strong and fast,” your hands come to lay across each other on your lap, the action not being missed by the younger Prince’s steely, unreadable gaze. You almost burn under it, but you chalk it up to the closed space.

He doesn’t respond, but simply tilts his head forward in a single nod. When you look back to Rhaekar upon Aegon’s lap, he rips his gaze from your face to the youngling’s.

In his mind, he is barely hanging on. Stuffed in a carriage with a brother he would rather wrangle than humour, a lady wife he is bound to duty alone and the sight of his childhood companion – love, friend, half of his heart, whatever that constitutes – wed and mothering a son with not only another man, but his own debauched brother. He would sooner die than stomach that.

But Aemond holds more restraint than most mortal men. At least, he thinks he does. His single eye traces over the soft of your son’s cheeks and the ovals of his eyes – all traces of Aegon. All traces of you. His hands clench against the thick leather of his pants, trying to seem indifferent, as his eye trains back to your face.

Your gaze floats back to his. Only the two of you understand that there is a tension floating between you, but you alone do not understand it. He is hard to read now, more than ever. The event at Drift-mark had shut you out from all his previous behaviours, his usual antics and juvenile tendencies. Now, a hardened and roughened man remained, whatever trace of friendship conjured in your childhood being a mere floating memory now.

At least, it seemed like it.

“Ah, here we are,” Aegon chimes blandly, pointing to the carriage window to ascertain which Lords were which, and which camps held best.

The moment breaks as the footman hurries to the door, and with it, you step outside beside Aegon and clutch Rhaekar at your chest with a smile. Beside you, Helaena and Aemond step awkwardly together. The sight of cheerful men and ardent cheers overwhelm you, and you push back the feeling arising in your chest with a lost sense of conviction.

The maids are gentle with your son, and it is all that you need to quell your thoughts and feeling heart.

You are able to catch a moment of reprieve amongst the tent that was erected for the likes of you and Aegon. Being the first born son, the tent served to reflect exactly that. It lay amongst the middle of the camp, green silks draped over wooden posts in different shades, like thick vines draping from the ceiling. Where there had been thick ground outside, had now been replaced by a verdant carpet, embroidered by gold all throughout. An extravagant faux-throne stood at a few steps to the right, and a swath of low cushions to your left – toys lay upon those cushions, with your son teething at a toy that a maid had gently placed at his feet.

Lords and Ladies flitted from here and there, passing like blurring bodies in your vision. A few stopped to greet you, and engage in conversation is pressing their advantage, though you were polite. There wasn’t much to look forward to – the small array of ladies gathered around chairs and carpets would surely do more to discomfort you than engage you in something meaningful.

At the back of the tent, a low serving table lay with refreshments. For all your knowledge, Aegon never really did reign in his inhibitions – there was already a pitcher half-full, and a goblet half-drunk on it. Aegon was somewhere, possibly entertaining some few of his many Lordly friends.

The ache of love could not be quelled by friendship.

You sip your wine slowly. In times like these, left alone to your own devices and given the option to drink, engage or settle with some ladies, your mind tended to wander instead. You tilt your cup to your lips, the sight of the fruitful wine giving way to a faint image in your mind.

It was his twelfth name day. You remember it so clearly – waking up before the maids and selecting your frilliest, prettiest gown for the occasion, frowning and whining when they insisted different colours and styles, fashioned with embroidery or gems.

You had wanted it to be special for Aemond.

Being one of his most beloved childhood companions, you wanted every intention to count. You knew it mattered when you stepped into the gardens, dressed in a delicate green gown, with red-dotted jewellery to dot your neck and fingers. He had been standing there, waiting anxiously, and nearly fell face front when he approached you.

You look… really pretty, he had stuttered.

Thank you, Aemond, you had giggled, enjoying the way his tongue had turned liquid in his mouth at the sight of you.

The plans had been made that day – whatever he wished for. When breaking fast, he couldn’t keep a hold of his tongue as he clutched your palm and led you hastily down the halls of the Red Keep. He knew that the day would entail later; extravagance and little time. Little time for you, and the thought soured his mind.

First, there was the clearing near the woods. He didn’t mind the presence of the knights trailing behind much, and neither did you. All he cared for was the feeling of perching his head nervously against your lap, fighting a smile as you braided flowers within his hair. It had been a sweet, long affair. Next, it had been the banquet dinner, and he had saved a space in the chair beside his own. His smiles never left you, his eyes always chasing your own, smiling bashfully when he did something worthy of impression to you.

And then, at the end of the day, past the pesky guards and the prying eyes of your parents – came the Dragon-pit escapade.

What if we get caught? Someone could see us, you voiced in worry, despite your eyes betraying the excitement broiling in your gut. Aemond had merely tugged at your wrist, boyish grip a little too tight for comfort, yet neither of you cared much.

No one will catch us, he smiled nervously, as though unsure of himself.

When the two of you tentatively descended the rocky steps of the massive crypt, you had held closer to him. Aemond tried to calm the jump in his pulse when your palm squeezed around his, or the way your shoulder bumped softly against the ridge of his back when the dark got too frightening.

Just stay close to me, he murmured. Though only a few centimetres taller than you, he was speaking with more confidence than what lay in him.

You had stayed close with a tight nod, your soft breath against his nape. He was scouring the darkness – the smell of Dragon-spit and smoke marred the air heavily, and the mechanical groans of a few of the pit’s creatures emboldened the darkness a little more. You clung to him even tighter, the silk of your dress pressing against his leathers. When the first dragon, however unrecognisable, had grown weary of your intrusion and lit its flame, you covered your eyes and ears. He had ducked you behind him, though he quivered just as much, and had covered you with both arms in an embrace.

Look, he had breathed.

And what a sight it had been.

Yellow climbed atop orange as dragon-fire spilled forth from a gargantuan throat of an unnamed dragon. It raised across the dark rock of the ceiling, lighting the space like a well-lit room, the heat bearing down against you like the summer season of the realm. Where there was fear, now there was also awe, as you and Aemond clung to one another. When the room dimmed, the two of you ran hand in hand above ground, falling atop each other in a hurry to rid of the pit’s darkness.

The added weight of you above him was barely registered, with your childish laughter filling the air in cacophonies, his hands a welcome weight against your hips. However that night ended, you do not remember. Did the two of you trek to the Red Keep in barely concealed laughter? Or did you peek at the stars when the guise of friendship had moved on to a tenderer feeling?

“My Lady?”

You blink like a fish out of water. Your wine is long gone, and you find yourself staring at the maid in front of you, who views you with the same sort of concentration, just a tinge of concern in her eyes.

It appears your thoughts might have drifted – Rhaekar had been fussing for you from the carpeted floor, barely able to sit still against the silk drapery and consoling maids.

“Forgive me—“ you begin, setting down your goblet and lifting yourself off the chair you had unknowingly seated yourself upon, approaching the child with a twinkling smile, “My sweet boy. Do you miss me?”

The boy babbles happily at your voice, recognising the soft tone of his mother’s voice. He clings to the collar of your blue silks, the embroidery against your collar being fisted in his little hands. You smile, entertaining the small boy as the maids watch with an affectionate smile.

From the corner of the room, Aemond watched. He always did – and he had been, especially now. His eye had lingered when you were day-dreaming. How twisted it was for an unreadable man of his station to desperately want to know the inner workings of another. He supposed he was this sort of man now – barred and unaffectionate, cruel by practice.

His duty to Helaena was just that. There wasn’t love, but a deep-seated admiration and bond with the quiet girl. He had been close with his sister, but he had never seen her as more – they had hardly sired heirs of their own. Targaryen customs had never repulsed him; he was no stranger to the much exercised practices of his house. But there was no deeper reason to feel more for her and the act of intimacy was hidden deep in his chest, unwilling to be made known to anyone but you. And she felt the very same with her own duty, seated in the far corner of the room, taken to her maid, who watches as she palms a spider carefully.

But you – God’s, you were different.

His childhood companion of when he was much too young to know of the atrocities of loss and shame, the one he chased with his eye alone and caught in a full room. He could abandon all feeling and you would still be in his chest, thudding place of his heart.

He could hardly tear his one, assessing eye off of you. Those silks, that draped off your form, curving against you in the places he wished he could memorise. Your hair wasn’t the silver of his Targaryen own, but a colour of your own – he had always admired it closely in childhood, perhaps another outlet of his devotion of you.

But now, watching you tend to your child, a child that he could easily confuse as his own, he felt something… in his gut.

He was that sort of man now – the sort of man who knew long ago of what he truly wanted.

“Trouble?” he asks smoothly, without much hesitation or emotion, as he crosses the room to stand beside you. His arms are folded behind his back, a habit he had developed with his roguishness, as he looks down at you.

You’re hardly surprised. You knew he would seek you out somehow – perhaps for conversation. It felt nice, for a moment, regarding him without looking into his eye and seeing the tension that lay within it, raw and confusing. You were forced to bury whatever you felt beneath lines of formality.

“He always is,” you smile at Aemond, dusting the front of your gown as you straighten to your full height, “Are you having a good time?”

“I suppose,” he hums. Brisk and short – you do not mind. You have grown used to that. But what makes your hair stand on edge is the look he gives you. Like he is studying you, trying to figure you out. His eye blinks towards the room, uncharacteristically relieved to find Aegon nowhere near, before he offers his arm.

“Walk with me.”

More demand than request, but his tone is not at all harsh and soft in his own way. Watered down and guarded but not forced, like it was nature to be with you so. Your heart flutters in your chest. There is no reason to deny.

“Lead the way,” you answer with a familiar smirk, which leaves a ghost of a smirk on his own lips. You leave the tent, arm warmly wrapped against Aemond’s own, after ensuring Rhaekar was satisfied with the stuffed renditions of dragons and the maids that coo at him when the drapery slides into place with your exit.

If the men assembled around the camp were surprised by your company, they made no show of it.

No protest rang as you and Aemond made for a thin path in the woods, mind anywhere but within the moment. The heat of your skin was warming his rib and arm, and the presence of him was making a familiarity dawn upon you.

Where there had been easy conversation in the past, there were silences and the light crunch of boot upon leaf. You didn’t blame him much – the change does not repulse you. He had always been a thoughtful boy in the past, and the silence had only grown. He tended to think more now, second guessing his words and choosing which words to best fit with you. He didn’t know where the two of you stood – was it fit to feel greedy even now?

The sounds of the creaking woods and crackling leaves are finally broken by his speech, “How are you?”

You look at him with mild surprise, a soft smile on your face as you regard him. His one eye is genuine as it looks upon you.

“Do you want the truth or something soft-sounding?” you jest, but he merely breathes softly.

“You know what I want,” he states with not so much as a smile, but his tone is light. Did you know what he truly wanted? Perhaps not. It would frighten you, surely.

“I am well. Rhaekar left me a little exhausted and sore, but the recovery has come along well,” you answer, “Truly, I am well.”

He pushes his luck, “And your marriage?”

It should surprise you, but it doesn’t. He’s always been eager at his hand, no matter how much restraint he had learnt over the years.

You sigh through your nose, “My duty, you mean. It is… not as horrible as it ought to be. Aegon is… well, Aegon. We perform what we must. He is a friend to me, in a way. No lover. But… it is good, I suppose.”

Something about the mention of a satisfactory marriage with his leech of a brother had his mind boiling with anger. He didn’t expect – much less hope – for you to be miserable. No, he was never that cruel to you. Perhaps to others, but not you. But the smell of friendship unnerved him. It was how he was taken to you – would Aegon follow that same path, find himself infatuated and easily claim your heart as it was already done legally through marriage? Would he standing by the sides when time would run out?

“Hm,” he repeats, monotone. He was clenching his fists, you notice, and visibly stiff against you. Something had angered him, and you wouldn’t just sit around to find out.

“What is it?” you ask, a frown on your face.

He takes note of it, almost wanting to press his index finger against the middle of your brows, to see the frown dissipate. But he held his hands back – that greed would get the better of him.

He steels himself, stopping by a large tree. It looms above the two of you, like a sledge-hammer, the roots taking place underneath your feet in bumps and ridges. The leaves are speckled across the vast amounts of branches, green and white in the cold sunlight. But the gaze he gives you is enough to warm your insides for good.

“It irks me,” he speaks truthfully for the first time in years, and for once, it feels freeing. His conscience is still heavy, “Your marriage with the… likes of him.”

You pause. This was traversing some grounds, this stupefying discovery and suspicion. Your vows and your duty flit through your head like the numerous scrolls in the Sept, the weight of the realm atop your shoulders. You had seen him in similar lights, but the truth almost made him vulnerable, angry. Fear griped at your chest, as you look at him like he was strange for saying such a thing.

“Well, it shouldn’t,” your voice is wary, a swallow diminishing the flurry in your belly, “We have a duty to uphold. Me, to Aegon. You to Helaena.”

He comes to a halt beneath one of the branches, disgruntled in a way that you cannot see. Aemond feels his tongue slacken in his mouth, the weight of another man’s anger resting in his body – or was it his? Hidden and barely known, even to himself? Was it the anger, the bitterness, that he held as young child, now refusing to be shown?

You notice his stiffness, but make no move to coax him out of him. He had to snap out of it.

“You have Helaena,” you repeat, softer if only it would soothe whatever line he was transgressing, “She is your lady wife.”

He scoffs. It is a sound that catches you off guard. In the past, he would have conceded and offered a hasty apology. Or perhaps in reluctance. But he was brash now, bolder. His shoulders squared, as his head moved an inch to look back at you, silver tresses spilling over the jerkin he wore.

“Helaena. She is my dear sister,” his voice is blank, “There was never any sort of love there. You know that.”

Your eyes widen. He was being truthful, more than usual. He was unravelling, surely, and the coldness of the forest sears away to be replaced with a warmth that nips at your heel. His eye only holds some light of anger and truth, never fear – but that is within him, refusing to be shown.

You look at your feet, distractedly picking your gown up from an edge of a root, “She is your wife, nonetheless.”

The words work more to anger him – you know this because a piece of his jaw sets in place, and he fully turns to face you. He had always been a head taller, but now, he was towering above you. Looming. The tree barely intimidated you as such – regal beauty closing in on you like Valyrian smoke.

“She is my wife,” he begins again, voice low. He approaches you, and you move backwards on cue. He stops upon notice, a sharp breath breaking the silence, “But you—“

“But me?” your voice is incredulous, “What about me? What am I to you but a friend from childhood—”

He moved closer, and you lose some semblance of control as he crowds your space. Your back presses against the bark of the large tree, uncomfortable and poking against the soft length of your gown. But you do not care, and neither does he. His fingers almost reach up to touch your arm, but he doesn’t dare. Not yet.

“Do not fool yourself,” he sneers, one eye looking down at you in a way that burns your skin once again, “You are more. You might have not known, but I did – you’ve always been more.”

His fingers finally concede, tracing the gooseflesh on your elbow as you twitch under him. Your eyes are wide and shocked, but you do not make a move to stop him, nor his words. He knows you are a proud lady by nature – you could easily make quick of this conversation and never return to him. But your eyes hold the truth. You’re half curious, as you are fearful and just as selfish as him, though you think of yourself better at hiding it. He smirks slightly.

“You should have been mine,” his eye searches your face, his finger trailing up to touch the side of your chin, a touch too soft.

If the bottom of your stomach hadn’t dropped before, it definitely had in this very moment. The leaves rustle softly as you feel your back scratch against the bark, your face warming where he touches you. The two of you are crossing a line, the both of you, because you make no move to leave. You lean into his touch ever so slightly, seeking for the warmth that lies there. Targaryens and their heat.

“We mustn’t,” your voice is weak, barely a deterrence, but you try anyhow. You know better than to give into the urges, the fears and hopes that belonged to a whole different time. A time where the two of you were much younger, and ignorant in a sweet sense, making light of the weight on your heart. But now, festering all throughout your adolescence, it had begun to take root, “We belong to others—“

Aemond makes a sound between a grunt and a scoff, as he traps you against the bark. His hands loop around your waist, the touch dangerous and a tell-tale warning of yourself and him, too, in a sense. But he doesn’t losen his hold, and you sigh shakily as he hauls you closer, chest to chest.

“We belonged to each other long before we belonged to others,” he manages in a ragged tone. In a tone that suggests that you knew better, just like he did, and that it was no better playing the fool. You supposed he was right – it was out in the open, and the two of you were chest to chest, like he’d tear your gown open and make love to you in the solace of the forest alone. Not much to hide now. Not much to disguise.

But still, you try. You pretended to not know better.

“That was in childhood—“ you struggle against his arms, heavy breaths stifling your lungs like sea-smoke as he comes so close, too close. His lips are at the corners of your own, his one eye so close as to depict the many different etches in his eyepatch, “I am your brother’s lady wife now.”

He tightens his hold around the small of your back, and you fail to ignore the warmth that builds all over. You are beginning to feel fuzzy, to let go of all your inhibitions, your restraint. And he was too.

“The laws of matrimony were forged by men,” he speaks smoothly against your lips, “They mean nothing to me—not when it comes to you.”

Your last ditch effort to deny crossing the line is futile – you sharply move your face away from him, the sight of his face ripping away from your line of vision. It proves to be a poor effort, because he merely grunts, grabbing your cheeks with his calloused digits and shifting it back to where it was before. It is almost violent in a way, if it weren’t for the tenderness in which he looked at you.

Every breath feels heavy, and your hands come to rest against his chest, not knowing whether to push or pull. Your restraint was slipping, and there was little to stop you now. You could barely deny yourself, let alone him.

“Look at me.”

The order is so simple and you curse at how your eyes float to his. It was such an easy thing – finding his eyes in the harrowing darkness of the Dragon-pit, peering into his good eye and trying to ignore the blood and gore that marred his other, trying to discern his thoughts with a look alone. You had looked so easily.

And he knew. God’s, Aemond knew it.

The truth lay in them, as they had all along. Even with one eye, he was left blinded. How could he have let the pretence of your duties hold him back, when you were there for the taking?

You knew it too – the lack of such a burn was abysmal in your own marriage. The presence of it now left you cloudy brained, hazy, and you couldn’t navigate the barest of thoughts. Before, caution would have been exercised. Now, there was an utter lack of it. A lack of patience, a lack of restraint, and a lack of all of which made you and Aemond.

With a slow pace, you let slide your hand against the nape of his neck, slowly trailing up and feeling the long strands that lay there, pale and silver against your fingers. You had once told him that it reminded you of star light. The truth stood now, even in the barely concealed brevity of your fingers. Not that you cared.

All restraint that the Prince had once retained in childhood snaps like a string and he surges forward. His lips are rough and a clatter of teeth, gum and tongue. He is not a patient man – so when he angles your head and licks against your lips, you keep your lips sealed for the thrill of it. Nevertheless, he wrenches your mouth open with his tongue alone, wrapping around your own like a muscle well-trained, noting every sigh and moan that escapes you.

His hands are all over you. There is surprise in the way it trails from your neck to your nape, to the back of your head and down your hip, his fingers thumbing your breast in the decline. You shudder against him, and he swallows your groan in earnest.

“So eager,” he drawls, though the need is thick in his voice, “I thought your vows meant more to you than this?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back, a strangled moan leaving you seconds later, as his fingers dive beneath your skirts and thumb your slit in a slow swipe. The words of retort die in your throat as you clutch fiercely to his shoulders, his pressing weight being the only source of support.

He smiled, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, “You’ve always had a filthy mouth on you. A lady no less.”

No amount of breath could have braced you for the way in which his fingers dipped beneath the smooth fabric of your underwear, slipping past the pubic hair that lay there and catching your pearl in a tight-rounded flick. You moan in a way he hadn’t yet heard before, and his heart clenches uncomfortably. He had only ever felt such exhilaration when atop Vhagar, mapping the expanse of King’s Landing below. But he is greedy now – he knows that he can be.

He mouths a quiet ‘fuck’, as he positions his fingers in a way that breeches you so barely, before burying a long, lithe finger within you. He is not prepared for the way you buck against him, the broken syllables of his name leaving your lips – almost desperate. Did Aegon know that he was claiming his own wife so, with his fingers alone?

When his fingers ease you open enough, one too many to wrench just sighs out of you, he retreats his hand from your small-clothes. You whine at the loss of his warmth, the absence of the ball of his palm against your clit that warmed the wet flesh just right. He simply smiles, taking your earlobe into his mouth.

“Patience, ñuha jorrāeliarzy,” he purrs against the expanse of your throat. The odd, old language blends into his usual use of the common tongue, and you do not know how it excites you so. Perhaps the premise itself is so debauched – your childhood companion and the brother of your own husband dragging your own slick back and forth across your cunny, in the solace of a forest.

It only clicks after that he called you his love.

You can barely digest that thought when he barely steps back. His fingers hook against your small-clothes and yanks them down harshly, the fabric lying wet and soaked slightly between your legs. You feel no shame – you wish you did, because some clarity would do you some good. Instead, you hurriedly help him unlace the buckles of his leather, laces of his breeches. They lower enough to let his cock to spring free, sinful and dangerous as he presses the weight of him against you, dragging it across like a damn tease.

“Please,” you plead, breaths ragged and poor. He smirks, arms hooking under your shoulders to pull you closer against his chest.

“Your words, sweet girl,” he coos. The smirk that tears his face is devilish – you almost cower, if not for the lust clouding your system, the decade long affair boiling between you both.

“I need you to—“ you struggle at a swipe of his cock-head against your slick entrance, “I need you to—to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” he asks, amused, as he begins to press into you. So, so close, yet not enough.

You nod tearfully, “I need you—I’ve always needed you, and you’ve always known. I wish it was you. I wish we would have wed—“

The moan that rips through you is entirely his fault. The sharp way he breeches you, in one harsh moment – his fault. But who could blame him? The thought of you so desperate to change the course of fate, to be bound to him by matrimonial vows, makes his stomach burn. He knew he was a hypocrite – he had just sullied and mocked them, but if you were his by law, he would have made it count.

“Wanted you forever,” he grunts against your ear, cock spearing through you and splitting you in half against the bark of the tree. The bark bites into your back, and your hips begin to burn. He smells of Dragon-scale and fire. He must have ridden Vhagar sometime this week – it makes you clench tightly around him, as he stutters, pushing in deeper, “I would’ve wed you in a heartbeat, if not for those fucking duties.”

You aren’t faring any better than him, moaning and whining as he ploughs into you, holding you up with his strength alone as he batters you endlessly. He speaks again, pleasured at the sight of you so wordless, “Don’t care much for that. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. My insolent brother would do good to remember that—fuck.”

You clench against him again, “Aemond—“

“Could spill my come in you now,” he pants, angling your hips to reach further into you, like he was taking the good parts of you and sullying them, just so he could lay his claim on you, “That fool would never know—you’d be round and swollen with my babe and he’d never fucking know—”

Excitement and fear gripes at your heart, as you look up at him in slight alarm. But you cannot help but entertain the thought – the mere thought of him laying claim on you so viciously, a formidable dragon in his own right, not caring for whatever that kept you apart. Gone was the boy that feared overstepping, that feared distance. Here was a man that would make space if he wished for it, lay claim on you because he craved you so.

With a strangled call of his name, you bite his shoulder firmly – not enough to cause hurt, but enough to have him grunt – as you near your release. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock when he looks below, and he knows the sight is his undoing. He is close – so close.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he taunts, yet spears in harder, “You’d like that so much.”

You can only nod helplessly, lost to the sensations swimming in your veins. He grunts through a wrangled moan, aroused by the way you let him.

It isn’t a surprise when you come first. It is a goal of his – as a man, to bring you ecstasy, before his own. But when he does come, it is deep within, a warmth that fills your body as he spills his seed deep inside your cunny. The two of you struggle against each other with ragged breaths, and his hand settles against the small of your back again, the touch leaving an impression.

“You’re insatiable,” you groan, though playfully, as you watch the product of his come drip from beneath you. He barely gives you any words, as his fingers collect the slick and quickly stuff the escaping wetness back in, ignoring the way your hips twitch away from him. Sensitivity. It makes him smile cruelly.

“Don’t you waste a bit of it,” he speaks, voice a drawl, thick with want. The weight of the truth lay between you two, but there was no need to navigate such a thing. You had known long, long before, even buried it underneath lays of flesh and bone.

He helps you dress again, and then himself, quick and expertly, your small-clothes containing the eager spill of his seed between your thighs. You do not miss the way his one eye glitters with some dangerous sense of pride, how he kisses your neck only so slightly. You smile, laughing softly, as he curls into the side of you, claiming a part of you and aiming for more – until you smell of nothing but Dragon-smoke and sweat.

“Let’s head back, before the others grow suspicious. For good reason,” you tug at his arm, your smile a balm against the ruined convictions of his past.

He offers a rare smile, letting himself be led away by you, just like in childhood, “Let’s.”

There was no need to fret the words – the two of you have always known, in some sense. Perhaps you’ll figure the future out sooner than you had before, with the added weight of him against your body.

© 2024 qvrcll. Do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[t-tomuras]

Best friends older brother Choso finding you in the kitchen getting a glass of water in the middle of the night in nothing but your underwear and his oversized knit sweater you thought you stole from Yuuji (bc what younger sibling doesn’t take the eldest’s clothes) to sleep in. Staying the night because it was ‘already so late’ and that they’ll give you a ride to uni in the morning.

Catching you standing on your tiptoes to reach a glass cup in the cupboard stored too tall this time around and he gets a nice view of the cheeky pair you wear and his throat goes dry.

Already feeling like a fuckin creep for how he feels about you, the lewd thoughts he lets pass because he knows it’s natural at the very least. Your his little brothers best friend, basically family at this point with how often you visit and spend time with Yuuji. Never gone so far as to needing to lock himself away in the guest bathroom to stroke his hard cock to the scene that plays in his minds eye.

Of him being the kind man you know him as and reaching the cup for you. Fingers brushing over yours, pelvis pressing you into the rounded edge of the counter top while one hand grips firmly at your hip. Thinks of how maybe you’ll make that cute little gasp that always happens when you’re startled or surprised the moment you feel him against you.

Will you look up at him with those pleading eyes that every man in this house is weak to? So willing to give you everything you want even if you don’t really ask for it? Would you want him the way he wants you? Long lashes fluttering closed when Choso uses the hand at your hip to grind the fat of your ass against his rigid length.

He thinks of how maybe you’ll lean forward until your forearms rest against the countertop, standing on your tiptoes again so he could feel more of you through his baggy joggers and the thin cotton covering your warm slit.

Fuck it’s gotta be tighter than the grip of his fist right now. He’d want to go slower than the quick and frenzied pace he has now, the one that causes the rest of his body to warm and a light sheen of sweat to collect on the nap of his neck and temple. Biting his lip hard to keep from groaning and altering you to his presence in the bathroom.

Imagining your sweet calls of his name, breathy sighs laced with pleasure. You’d sound so cute he knows it, you already sound so sinful when you say his name in innocent situations.

“Choso Choso Choso” fuck you’d probably pitch when he’d rut his hips to nudge at your clit after pushing the band of his sleepwear down and your panties to the side. Slick clicking because he knows he can make you feel good, he already takes care of you as much as he can. Or fuck if you let him slip inside and feel that divine heat like he imagines now. Fevered ruts nearly lifting you off your feet because he’ll have to angle himself to take you comfortably. He’s sick from the thought of a sweet keen of “chos-oh” at the feel of him. What he can do for you.

So close, almost there. Just a little more.

Before you knock at the door, and you sound just as innocent as you always do. As the fantasy that plays in his head does before it shatters but still he pumps his cock in his fist, “Choso? That you? Everything okay?”

Fuck, no? Everything’s not okay because you’re so close. Just outside the door, within arms reach, and his sacs already tightening with the need to cum. He’s almost there he can’t fucking stop now even with you standing outside.

“Yeah,” it’s a husk through grit teeth, panting breath and he’s almost there. Close close close fuck.

“Are you sure? You sound like you’re sick..” You’re so sweet, do you know that? So caring always, he knows it. His younger brother keeps good people. A talent for it obviously when he found you, when he brought you to him. The way you smile, the way you shine, everything. He’s euphoric, he’s painting his tight fist in pearly ropes with a relieved sigh to the thought of you.

Head lolling back against the door behind him as his hips stutter through the pleasure Choso knows pales in comparison to what you could offer. But it’s relief for now.

Collecting himself to tuck away his spent cock and open the faucet for the sound of running water to fill the space and hopefully put you at ease.

“Yeah, I’m alright, just fine,” he’d say perfect but that’d only be if he could be with you

[reshinless]

Ur blog is so cute!! Can u do kinich (if I spelled that write) with a fem reader whos really sensitive and gets overstimulated really easily during sex??

──── blue salvia

ᯓ★ ── . summ. a plethora of feelings left unshared, he'll give it a feel.

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ director's note. thank you >< i rly like the way i styled alot of my stuff atm as well :)

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ pairings. kinich x fem!reader

ᯓ★ ── . warnings. nsfw, fem terms used, sex lol, overstim kink kinda, lowkey dacryphilia (but not the main point, might elaborate abt it on a diff post)

kinich knows how sensitive you are, especially to his touch. even so- he'll overstim you anyway.

but don't worry, he'll talk you through it. letting you stay in front of a nice mirror he bought just to show you off. making you watch how you react when your pretty little slit gets rubbed.

"hic kin- i-" you could barely speak, small tears running down your cheek, only for him to kiss them away. "shh shh.. I know.. you're doing great princess."

Incoherent babbles were the only things you could speak about as you leaned into his touch. you were sat down on his lap, legs pried open to let him get a perfect view of your hole sucking his fingers so nicely, so snug in your tight wet cunt.

and honestly, as much as possible, he slows down his pace. i'd say he's used to everything going quickly.

within the time that he's patient with you; he admires your features.

his eyes analyze your every emotion, watching how your eyebrows knit or how you squeeze your thighs around his head. maybe even the way you whine that he's doing too much.

but when you've been a little more than naughty that day..

"mhmm... oh? look at you.. begging me to overstimulate this pussy. so cute." he bluntly mocks into your face, making eye contact with your e/c orbs.

kinich likes to tie you up to the bedpost with the rope from his elemental skill, watching how you struggle to rid of them. a hand slid down your ass, caressing its softness- then giving it a slap.

"couldn't wait till home to let me fuck you sweet?" desire evident in his tone, he wasn't afraid to teach you who was supposed to keep you in place.

he licks his lips, looking back up at you, you were so pretty like this.. it's been a while since kinich last tasted your sweet cunt. he's scissors your hole wide open for his digits to finally enter. his head leans into to give your clit an oh so sweet kiss, before devouring it to its finest.

[fanaticsnail]

Will You Let Me?

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 4,500+

Synopsis: Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Themes: pollen!killer x gn!reader, NSFW, mdni, 18+, smut, penetration reader!receiving, swearing, dubcon, begging, pleading, apologising, bruising, crying, rough, do not read if you do not enjoy the trope, fluff at the end, semi-ooc.

Notes: first time writing gn!reader smut! I enjoyed the challenge, but forgive me if there's a word that is used incorrectly! I am still learning inclusive language.

Pollen is a fun trope to play with, but please do not read if you don't enjoy.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @remisloves @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @icy-spicy

The hot sun shone over the wooden deck of the Victoria Punk. The soft waves gently rocked the boat with a subtle lull, the screech of gulls only aiding your heart to swell in merry solitude.

It was a rare occasion that you were tasked to remain behind while the crew explored a foreign area. Your skills as a linguistics specialist usually meant your silver tongue was called for to coax a good deal, or to decipher scratchings on cave walls. Considering this area was only a port meant for resupply, Captain Kid deemed your skills unnecessary for the journey in land.

Never one to complain, and genuinely giddy at the notion of being secluded and alone for a change, you jumped at the opportunity to stay with the Victoria Punk. You adored your ship, and decided to utilise the opportunity to check over her planks, ropes, and panels that may be in need for repair.

As the day went on, you did not expect a member of your crew to return so suddenly: especially the hulking masked figure of Massacre Soldier Killer. Being the first-mate, he was usually by Kid's side, no matter the circumstances.

Coughing, sneezing and sputtering: Killer’s right hand shot out to grasp your left shoulder. The firmness of his grip was bordering on painful, prompting you to wince in response to the hard strangulation of flesh.

“Something gross hit me in the face,” he strained from behind the teal and ivory mask, “Stuck in my chest and my throat. Not feeling good. Gotta-... fuck-... I gotta lie down or something.”

Concern and worry knit itself over your face, examining the staggering movement of Killer’s body as he retreated below deck. He stuttered and gripped onto the wooden beams, walls and ceiling to stabilize his movement: his body almost giving way beneath the pressure.

“Kil, do you need-,” you began, halting as his voice raised over the top of yours.

“-‘M fine. D-Don’t worry, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing below deck. His large figure seemed to both be inflated and deflated with a foreign paralysis in his choppy, staggered steps. The waves did nothing to sooth him in his glide throughout the halls.

As soon as he reached crew-quarters, he all but shredded his clothes and cast them away from his body. His skin was alite with violent lust, his hands moving against his will to fist, claw and paw at the erogenous zones of his torso, stomach, legs, and his puckered nipples.

He arched his back as his hands gripped the base of his already steel-like cock, immediately pumping it in his right fist. His left hand clawed at the flesh of his chest and lay flat over his heart as he felt the rise in fluttered rapidity.

Scraping and gripping downwards with his left hand, he pushed hard on the base of his stomach, feeling how tightly wound the banded coil was wound in the pit of his stomach: bound hard enough to snap. Every muscle was tense, firm and aching for relief. He began sniffling and sobbing behind his mask, never truly experiencing the shame in the desperation his body was craving before.

He was the only one who managed to not avoid the hessian bag of powdered flowers falling from the rooftop of the naturopathic remedy building. Apologetic calls echoed down from the roof before panic began to rise in the workers. Killer could scarcely process voices above the throbbing ache in his lower abdomen.

Barely hearing several repetitions of Kid’s voice calling: “Killer, are you alright? Kil, are you alright?” All Killer could do was splutter and cough through the burning in his chest.

Golden flecks danced over his eyes beneath the mask, the pollen sucked immediately through the holes and embedded several clusters within the circular orifices. No matter how many times he wiped at the mask with his hands, he continued to inhale the sticky-sweet smell of herbal flowers within deep gulps of his lungs.

“Get him back home!” a hushed voice hurriedly spat at Captain Kid, “He needs a companion, someone to take care of him while he's going through this. Someone caring and kind enough to-.”

“-Don't tell me what to do! Kil, you know the way back to the ship from here?” Kid’s voice barked at Killer, prompting the blonde to spark a moment of clarity in his progressingly foggy mind, “The linguist is back there. They'll take care of ya’ if ya’ need it, okay?”

“Okay,” Killer managed to stutter out, his body scorching hot and violently in need.

“Okay!” Kid parrotted back, looking at the shopkeeper, “Okay, great. Now that's settled, we need a couple things from you. Let's get that sorted before-."

As Killer continued fisting at his cock, he felt release on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut and his lips were parted wide. Unbeknownst to him, each time he panted through his heavy inhales and exhales; more of the toxic pollen punctured his lungs and poisoned his bloodstream with arousal.

He was consumed with lust, a beast untamed and unbridled. There was no release for him, no relief that came thereafter. He was isolated, confused, scared and manic. He needed something, someone, anyone-.

“-No,” Killer spoke aloud in a strangled whisper, “Not anyone. I need the linguist. I n-need-... fuck-... I need my linguist. Where i-is my linguist?”

Continuing about your task of ensuring all of the ropes were properly coiled and laid, your heart began to pang with guilt. You decided to cast aside all further self-induced tasks and seek out the first-mate you serve beside, attempting to offer him comfort through his illness. He seemed so adamant about isolation, but you felt called to be by his side.

Venturing below deck, his painful strain of wanton moans called to you. Muffled groans of pain exhumed from the room, cries of anguish falling through the door. Your deepest sympathies clawed at you to push through the door. Your hand hesitated it's rise against the wooden panel, your body almost walking away before you heard a gentle and heartfelt cry of your name falling from Killers lips.

“I-If you're there,” Killer’s voice again called for you, “Please come in. Please,” he chanted your name with a soft, strangled moan, “Please. I need you.”

Immediately, your body moved against your will. Twisting the knob to crew quarters, you swung the door wide and was immediately met with the sight of your first mate: glistening in beads of sweat and shed of all but his teal and ivory face covering, and viciously pulling at his cock.

“Killer! Why did you tell me to come in if you were doing that?” you shouted in a harsh whisper, immediately slamming the door shut behind you and scrunching your eyes tightly shut, “I don't want to watch that!”

Thick silence aside from the cruel pistoning of his firm hand slapping against his lower stimach engulfed the air. Soft huffs of muffled pants escaped gritted teeth, Killer's mask doing the heavy lifting in silencing his cries for you.

“I don't want you to watch,” Killer confessed in a soft, breathy whine, “Please don't watch,” he keened for you, “Participate.”

“Killer!” you shot over your shoulder at him with a warning tone, “What are you-?”

“-I would never a-ask if I didn't-...” He trained off in a strangled whimper, desperately clenching down on his tongue with his teeth and biting back his needy sobs, “...I-I need you. I need you. Only you.”

“Kil,” you sighed at him, your concern written over you'd face, “Have you taken something? Was it the gross thing from earlier? Did that have an effect on you? Like a drug-?”

“-Look at me,” a barked command exited the holes in the mask, “Please, look at me,” he pleaded, gasping as he grasped at his cock, fisting the flesh and whimpering as he was brought to the brink of ecstacy once again, “Just look at me, please. I just need your eyes on me. Eyes on me.”

“Killer,” you whimpered, finally turning to face him. As soon as your eyes met with the icy stare beneath his mask, you were entranced. Your body propelled you against forward, called to serve the needs of the first mate in a hypnotic trance.

“I need you,” he sobbed, reaching for you with his left hand as his right continued beating his weeping cock, “Only you. Please, let me have you?”

Your body continued reacting against your will, your brain becoming foggy as Killer’s lust thickened the air with all-consuming need. Shame coursed just as heavily throughout your body as the arousal at just the thought of taking Killer’s cock into you began coursing through your veins.

“Please,” he whined, his eyes holding your own as you stripped yourself of your clothes, “Please,” his lips spilt as you straddled his lap, “Please,” as you immediately began sinking yourself down over the tip of his knob.

His precum did little to prepare you your your descent, focussing on your wanton need to have him within you to open your body up to receive him. Killer moaned your name, crying out with baited breath as you slowly consumed all of his length with the grip of your tight hole.

As soon as he felt your heat take his entire length, he was already a babbling mess. There was no strings of cohesive thought as his length became strangled within your tight center. He immediately began shooting your body full of ropes of thick release, ribbon after ribbon of his pale translucent ecstasy.

He cried out for you in warning before painting your walls white with his sticky cum. The pearly beads of his lust coated your tight hole immediately, strings of praise falling from his lips as he rode through his high with you fully impaled on his thick cock.

But he remained firm, hard and desperate for more.

“Wha-...” he began, his understanding of his own arousal and relief not aiding him in the slightest as he thrust up into you. He moaned as he sheathed his lengthy shaft deep within you again, your own arousal now taking over as you started to roll your hips against him while sat fully engulfed by him.

“Killer, what's going on?” you questioned him, your confusion and worry knit on your face, “You're s-still hard.”

“I-I am,” he confirmed, a soft mewl of bliss echoed beneath his mask as he rolled his hips up into you, “What’s happening to me?”

His hands found your hips, rocking you above him as he began feeling another wave of need course through his veins. As his hands embedded into your hips, you winced at the sting. His strength depicted in his grasp, gripping you like a lifeline anchoring himself to the world surrounding him.

He tried.

He tried so hard to be gentle.

He wanted to be gentle for you. Needed to be gentle for you.

But his grip turned sinister, turned brutal and unforgiving as he thrust up into you. His end was coming to a close as he chased it with you writhing and pleading on his lap. His desperation enticed him to continue bullying your tight center with vicious snaps of his bruising slaps.

“Kil,” you called for him, feeling his cock touch a depth within you that had your back arching and mewling for him, “Oh, Kil. I'm close.”

“Please,” he begged, desperately thrusting up into your lap as his end stampeded before his eyes, “Please cum. Please. N-Need it.”

“Killer,” you called for him, feeling the band weave ever tighter within your abdomen, spiraling and coiling within the pit of your stomach, “Kil I'm gonna-.”

“-Oh, fuck!” he roared, his body immediately betraying him as he coated your insides with ropes of hot, sticky, and heavy cum for the second time. His balls sucked up inside his body, his entire being screaming in relief as his release was once again began satisfying his unbridled lust for you.

But his cock still remained firm.

Your eyes clenched firmly shut, the corners wincing at the slight pinch as the coil snapped deep within you. White-hot ecstacy coursed through your veins, your body releasing your bliss over yours, and Killers, bodies as you rode through your high seated on his lap.

His hands were firm, rocking you atop him with a guiding, harsh rhythm as you called his name. Your whole being was alight with passion, your eyes now opening and looking down at the man beneath you.

Killer didn't realize it until he felt his eyes roll back in his skull, his body immediately ushered into a third orgasm as your body milked him with the rhythmic thumps of your warm orgasm. But he still remained firm, hard and needy. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath: particles of pollen immediately spiraling in a cylindrical vacuum deep into his lungs.

“I c-can’t,” Killer called for you, immediately grappling you in his arms. He threw you beneath him, his vice-grip clawing at your hips as he pummeled down into your body, “I can't stop, I can't stop, I can't stop.”

You bit back a whimper, your body barely recovering from the prior spend of your hot release. Overstimulated, ill-prepared and encumbered with your new task at hand: Massacre Soldier Killer never let up. Not even for a moment.

In fact, he only got more intense, ferocious and brutal the moment your body began to milk his cock.

“P-Please know I'm sorry,” he choked out a strangled whimper. His fingers ached with the intensity he was gripping onto you with, leaving punctures of purple intents over your hip bones due to the butality he was burrowing into you.

“O-Oh fuck,” you sucked in your bottom lip, biting down hard as the corners of your eyes began pricking with tears, “It's okay, it's okay. I know. I can t-take it.”

You spoke through those words of confirmation, truly attempting to convince yourself of the ability to endure this rough treatment for as long as Killer needed to use your body for. Rough slaps of his hips smacked against your body, his veiny cock scraping itself through your body as his knob hit angles you didn't realize you could experience. It would equate to bliss if his grip wasn't so intense.

Excruciating agony and white-hot ecstacy were in a perfect marriage within your body beneath the hulking form of Massacre Soldier Killer. The harmonious entanglement driven further by the grunts, growls, roars from the man above you, only for them to turn into begging whimpers and pleas for you to endure just a moment longer.

“I kn-know this isn't-... f-fucking nnghm-... this isn't g-good for you,” his breathy whisper cut through his growls like a pick through ice, “I can't stop. I can't fucking stop.”

“It's okay, Kil. I p-promise it's okay,” you grit your teeth as his grip intensified on your hips, "You're good. You're b-being so good." His rhythm was unforgiving, the pace and rate his body rut into you was tormenting, brutal and punishing.

This was not the first-mate you knew. The beast in his stead was as violent as Killer was in battle, ripping bones and slashing through flesh. This was not at all what you anticipated from aiding Killer through this feat of lust.

His desperation was abhorrent, something he was repulsed by. He never dreamed of joining his body with yours in this strenuous and savage manner. He wanted to be kind, always kind, only ever kind, should you grant him the access to you he so desperately longed for from afar.

Softly spoken, dutiful and almost loving. That's who you knew him to be, and that's who he wanted to be for you. Your friend, your comrade in arms, your senior serving crewmate who you trusted to have your back.

How would you ever trust him again after this? How could he ever trust himself? That push and pull of chasing his relief with you caged beneath him coincided with the tug of his heart and the fog of his mind. He wants you to trust him after this. He wants you to look him in the eye and tell him you still want him. He needed that from you; the confirmation this was not only simply for now, but something he could have once again.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he sobbed into your neck, the cool surface of his mask grounded you. Huffs of his breath poked through the holes in his mask, his icy-blue eyes were scrunched tightly shut while his body remained alight like a beacon in darkness.

He had already reached his climax three times, shooting burst after burst of his sticky cum deep within you. Although relief was found immediately afterwards, his cock continued to remain stiff as the steel of a blade in a snow storm.

He just couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?

“Kil, I-I think you n-need-... ahh,” you mewled as he moved his hands up to your waist, his broad fingers splayed out to perch like a bird of prey against your skin. He rammed his full length in and out, your stomach beginning to ache with the bulge protruding deep within your abdomen.

“N-Need you,” he groaned in your ear, his hips stapling you against the floor with each cruel slap, “Need to keep going. Almost th-there again.”

“I know, Kil. I know,” you soothed his hair in your hands, trails of wet tears streaked your cheeks with how much sensations your body was taking, “Take what you need, I'm here.”

“I’m gonna-... I'm gonna- f-fuck. I'm gonna cum again,” he groaned deep within his mask, his voice picking up at the end in a small shuddery whimper, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm cumming.”

Your head rolled back, eyes wide as you felt him empty himself within you for a fourth time. The sticky splashback of his hot cum trickled out of your needy hole, his cock buried up to the hilt with his spend leaking over his pubic hair and thighs. He huffed against your shoulder, his mask almost becoming loose over his face as he recovered.

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his bare shoulder as he shuddered and shook through his fourth spurt of ecstacy, “Good boy, Kil. Get it all out.” His cock twitched at your title bestowment, the hardness of his steely cock refusing to deflate no matter the amount of release he pumped into you.

“I-It’s not going down,” he whimpered into you, his hips beginning to roll against yours once more, “It's not going down. I don't know what to do,” his sobs began to shake at his shoulders.

“It's okay,” you winced out, feeling the heat of release exiting from your overspent body with ooze of fluid, “I-I think you need to take your mask off.”

“Wh-What?” he gasped at you, his hands continuing to hold you firmly against the mattress of his bed, “The mask off?”

“Some-... fuck, Kil-... something hit you in the face, ri-right?” your voice was several notes higher than your usual cadence, crying beneath him as he pummeled into you, “Might be still in your mask. Take it off. I'll close my eyes, I'll not tell a soul,” you winced, clamping your eyes tightly shut, “I'll be good. I'll tell no-one.”

Killer immediately halted his thrusting, his body in momentary stasis as your words reached him. His body screamed at him to keep going, to keep pummeling into you, to keep chasing his high that was just within reach. But he stopped, his cock sheathed deep within you.

“Look at me,” he purred down at you, his hands still firm on your waist. His grip grasped you tighter, misbehaving beneath Killer's pleading to hold you more gently.

Unclenching your scrunched eyes, you gazed up at him as his hands left your body and unclasped the mask from shrouding his face. Icy blue eyes, as pale as the sky and as deep as the ocean pierced you as his gaze met with yours. Your breath was stolen from within your lungs, choking back on your surprise at his appearance.

Massacre Soldier Killer was beautiful.

“Look up at m-me,” he stammered, his hips rolling against yours as his cock burrowed deep within your body, “Look at me. I n-need you to see me. I need you to see how desperately I need you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his rhythmic thrusts began to pick up their intensity. Your eyes never left his for a moment: not to look at his lips, not his beard, nor his angular cheekbones, nor his nose. His eyes were what captivated you most, holding you hostage as their glassy hue glazed over to chase his high within you.

“Y-You were right,” he huffed between thrusts, “My lungs aren't burning, and I-I think this is it. Th-This one is it.” His pace was excruciating, but the satisfaction you were beginning to feel build itself within you screamed at you to let him continue using you.

“You can do it, Kil,” you rolled your hips to match his pace, staring up through half-hooded lashes into his eyes, “Use me. Take me, I'm yours.”

“You're mine,” he moaned his growling voice down at you, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your neck, “Perfect for me. Made for me.” His cock twitched deep within you, your body reacting to his needy chase and toppling over with his final release.

“F-Fuck, Kil!” you cried, your body beginning to throb, your thumps of bliss coaxing Killers balls to empty deep within, “I-I’m-... I’m cumming. Killer, I'm cumming!”

“Cum with me, cum with m-me,” he begged, his pace picking up as his cock finally began weeping it's spend for the fifth time deep within you, “With me. F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pants of breath, fluttering of elevated heartbeats and joint cries of bliss ricocheted off the wooden walls of the crew-quarters of the Victoria Punk. Killer's mask lay discarded beside the door, lulling in the subtle rock of the waves over the floorboards as you both fell away from your mutual highs.

Killer moved his head away from your shoulder, gazing down to where your bodies remained joined together in awe. His lips were agape, his eyelashes fluttering as he pulled himself away from you. Watching the floodgates open from your abused entrance, your mutual juices coating both of your stomachs, thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you.

Killer looked to your hips, his lips parting and eyes becoming teary as he noticed the damage showcased on your body.

Marks littered your skin, deep hues of purple branded your flesh, depicting Killer's unrestrained lust and need for you. His bliss was eclipsed by deep sorrow as his fingers gently caressed the elevated indents in your skin. Sensing his unease, you immediately flung your hands up and collected his cheeks in your palms.

“I can handle it,” your eyes searched his, looking between his deep, blue orbs with your eyes only depicting support and affection, “I wouldn't have let you do it if I couldn't handle it.”

Killer turned his head, his lips meeting your palm with his whiskered chin tickling your flesh. This small moment of affection felt more sacred, more secret, and more intimate than the emassment of bodily fluids you shared moments prior.

“I shouldn't have been so rough with you,” he scolded himself, “I will never be rough with you again.” His fingertips caressed your hips, soothing over your aching flesh and wordlessly apologizing with deep, intentional touches.

“Are you feeling okay, Kil?” you asked him, lazily cocking your head to the side, “Don't need to go again?”

“Fuck, no,” he huffed through a small, squeak of laughter, “Not right now, at least.”

Smiling up at him, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gazed deeply into his eyes. You couldn't get enough of the luxury it was to gawk at the handsome man who just spent himself within you five times in consecutive succession.

He truly was beautiful.

“Does that mean you want to do this again?” you asked him while attempting to not show how eager you were. You began taking your time to examine his muscular physique before snapping your eyes back up to his blue orbs. A red hue tinted his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room before rejoining your own.

“I would like to, yes,” Killer admitted at last, sucking in a breath as he anticipated your refusal. Your smile spread up your face, prompting you to immediately spring yourself up to meet his body with your own.

“Crew’s still out for a while,” you shrugged, looking around the crew-quarters you had both tainted with the stains of your aroused fluids, “We should clean this up,” you drew your eyes up to meet his, coy and bashful, “And maybe we could have a bath together-?”

“-Please,” he spoke over you, far too quickly for his liking but too lost to hold back the floodgates of emotional excitement, “Let me bathe with you. I'll wash your hair, massage your body. I'll make sure you're so, so spoiled after all this, if you'll let me?”

A small squeal of joy found its way to your lips, buzzing at the notion that he not only wants to be with you again physically, but he desired to treat you to the luxury of continuing to gawk at his uncovered face further by bathing with you.

“Will you let me?” Killer asked, his voice still holding that eager anticipation that caused you to both melt and soar in unison. You eagerly nodded, prompting Killer to hook his arms beneath you and elevate you into his chest.

Your fingers quickly drew themselves up to his lengthy blonde hair, detangling the sweat-damp strands and toying with the soft curls framing his face. You hummed in contentment as his smile freed itself on his face, glancing at you as you continued enjoying his luscious, thick locks.

“Let's go then,” he cooed down at you, his lips finding your forehead as he cradled you against him, “Let me spoil you for being so good to me. I need to treat you right.”

“Don't forget your mask!” you quickly uttered, causing him to pause and search your face for clarification. You smiled at him, gently reaching your lips up to press against his cheek, “Gotta clean the damn thing, unless you want to experience all that again?”

“Good point,” he huffed, using his feet to kick along his mask to the bathroom as he chaperoned you within his arms, “I prefer my own desire to come from me,” he confessed as soon as he reached the door, “And I want to show you how much I truly do desire you.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled in return, wincing as your body’s adrenaline seeped out of your body and the pain caught up to you.

“I promise I'll be gentle with you,” he confessed, his eyes innocent and brows triangulating in a peak in the center of his forehead, “I won't be rough.”

“I can take a bit of rough treatment,” you challenged him in return, smiling into his bare chest as he began to run the bath.

“I know you can,” he smiled down at you, pressing a small kiss against your temple, “But you don't have to, unless you really want to.”