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#my apologies
st-hedge · 4 months
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I hand in my cv to paint the backgrounds for the 2d Zelda movie
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ellonemu · 1 year
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most inaccurate thing about minecraft story mode is that no one looked like this
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sanhio · 7 months
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Underused sanrio character;
Minny le Mew (ミニールミュー, Minī ru Myū) is a kitten character from Sanrio. She is French-born. She is spoiled, very careless, and loves milk.
1987 minny le mew cup
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2aceofspades · 3 months
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*gives CJ a bunch of flowershape stickers*
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:)
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pookiecowpoke · 1 year
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When you're on your way to another mission, but the npcs have some juicy tea going on:
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meowsara · 2 months
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cowboy kujou sara. god bless 🙏
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bonus-links · 10 months
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SORRY FOLKS,,,,,update is postponed to next week 😅
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cinderoo · 2 months
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no don't turn me into a keychain
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weirdcursedvaultkid · 2 months
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comes back from hiatus with something cursed
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freak-accident419 · 3 months
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AHHHHHHHHHHH I NEED BILLY X GN!READER CAR SEX SMUT RIGHTTT NOWWWWWWWW
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HES SOOO HOTTTTT
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hasello · 4 months
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TW: BLOOD, INJURIES, SELF-HARM
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first/previous/next
…that?
The self-harm is more accidental I’d say, but it’s still what it is. By this I mean that: Leo wouldn’t hurt himself on purpose, although he also doesn’t mind when the world does it for him. His only sin is that he doesn’t stop it.
Also I’m sorry if it seems unnecessarily bloody but at this point I’m just using this comic as a punching bag - to get rid of some tension. My head is a mess lately.
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rauzagel · 6 months
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So, was that a promise? Because my disappointment is immeasurable. Where's my date, Raphael? In case the player decides to take the devil's deal, Raphael should personally take you to the House of Hope to hand you the orphic hammer there. Maybe even offer to sell or lend you some of his legendary items to help defeat the brain, in exchange for some soul coins. This way he could work as a vendor figure, as it was (allegedly) originally intended. Visiting the house of hope as a friend should be the alternative to having to kill him, so we can roleplay that we're fulfilling the contract but still get to see this area of the game.
This is also when we should be able to get some steamy scenes with the real Raphael. It's canon that he takes guests to his boudoir. This should be the perfect opportunity to have his way with his "little mouse". Haarlep always just felt like the consolation price, which would be fine if the player decides to go the hostile route.
Oh well, I'm just dreaming.
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canarycolemine · 5 months
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The Cardinale
Pairing: Cardinal Terzo x Female Reader
Summary: Cardinal Terzo is one arragont motherfucker.
AO3 Link
Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only. hate sex. lots of it. cardinal is a little cheeky piece of shit. WC 4.4k.
Heavily inspired by @mardyart's depiction of Cardi T. Such a phenomenal artist!
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Cocky, arrogant, headstrong.
The third Emeritus brother, destined to become Papa one day, nepotism to the highest degree. His suave, angular face and his overly confident charms - how he assumes every Sister will fall into his bed.
How I despise him. How I hope to never fall under his gaze, never be subjected to his attention.
Imagine my rage when Sister Superior informed me that I, her star pupil, will be responsible for tutoring the bastard in English.
He was “reassigned” to the country-side Abbey after displaying what I can only imagine was simply inappropriate behavior for an upper clergy member. The man believes that he can seduce and bed any living thing! Perhaps it’s not a matter of belief, but a goal, rather. At his current pace, he will have had most of the Sisters in his bed before the year is up!
Watching him saunter through the halls, smoking his little cigarettes - inside! I always made a concerted effort to cough as I walked past, head held high. He would simply perish, it seems, if he did not attempt to woo a woman a day. Kissing their hands, wearing his stupid white gloves, and winking that shining white eye.
I love my Sisters, but please, have some self-respect.
Quite frankly, I’ve always been appalled by his behavior. He has never led an entire black mass by himself, needing his brothers to finish the job. There was even one instance where I could have sworn he had a sister hidden under the pulpit from where he stood, evidently having communion. No, Cardinal Terzo only ever wanted to lead the rituals - the demon and ghoul summonings (he needs new things to fuck), the mystic elements (anything he can light on fire), and of course, orgies. (duh!).
It was early fall when Sister Superior invited me to her office. I was promised tea; secretly, I had hoped she would invite me to teach a seminar or two over the semester. My lecture series on the invocation of Lilith and Samuel could rival even the Dark One’s knowledge, himself!
But, no.
“The Cardinal is in desperate need of more restraint, and he could benefit from a more rigorous understanding of the English language. He prefers to speak in his mother tongue, and truthfully, it is not accommodating to international chapters.” Superior started, my ears perked at the mention of my personal enemy. I brought the steaming cup to my mouth. “I could think of none other to teach him all of these skills rather than you, Sister.”
I could hardly register the hind notes of the tea before it went straight through my nose, burning the whole way up! I coughed and sputtered the hot liquid at the shock of my assignment.
Still catching my breath, “My apologies, Sister, but… why me?”
“Give yourself credit, Sister. You are a star pupil!” A shine in her eyes, a smirk in her mouth let me know two things - she meant what she said and there was another reason, too.
My eyes narrowed, seeking the answers in her eyes.
“And you’re the only student that the Cardinal has not gotten to know… intimately.” Her lips pursed, looking towards the ground.
“Sister Superior…” I started, not above begging.
“Sister, I will make it worth your while. I will make sure you have your lecture series as a mandatory presentation for all first-year novicates.” A smile crossed my face, but dropped; still, the deal was unsatisfactory.
I sat up a little straighter, now making a dare. “And, no kitchen duty for the entirety of his lessons.” I hated the kitchens. Everything I’ve ever made was burnt to a crispr, so I’ve always been delegated to cleaning the dishes - the worst thing in the world.
She nodded, “That can be arranged.”
I smiled, relaxing a little, but how it only lasted so long. Resigned to my fate, I was excused to prepare for my lesson with the Cardinal this Tuesday.
A pause from my duties was provided in anticipation - he needed to be assessed for his English skills - grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. From my understanding, he had a functional grasp on the language. But I did not really know.
Truth be told, I have never spoken even a word to the Cardinal - always avoiding him, always souring my face when his eyes gazed at me. I wanted to be wholly unappealing to the man. For the most part, he had taken the hint and left me alone. Although, I could have sworn he said something in Italian as I walked past, something like “how I want to be the stick up her…” I didn’t inquire further.
By Lucifer’s grace, I had successfully avoided him. Until the sunset on the second day of the week, when our paths collide.
I arrived at our designated location - one of the older classrooms, repurposed for private studying, long abandoned by the day. Thirty minutes early to the beginning of the lesson, how I tidied our space, laid the materials out and cleaned the chalkboard.
The hanging wall clock, the ever present heartbeat, kept steady. It was almost unnerving, as if keeping me in tempo with the eventual encounter with the asshole. The old bell tower clock rang out 6 times.
And the aforementioned asshole was not here. The door was unlocked, the sun firmly setting. My lips tightened to a pout. I will give him five minutes - no more.
Electing to sit in one of the old desks I rearranged, I pulled out a trusty book, as I had anticipated his tardiness.
Some twenty odd pages in, and I had lost track of time entirely - forgotten the reason I was in this dusty room. The bastard didn’t even show up, easily thirty minutes late! Quite frankly, it was embarrassing that I managed to stay this long. But now, I elected to start the process of cleaning my things.
In the morning, I planned to tell Sister Superior that I will simply not take the Cardinal as a student, he had no respect for my time. Future Papa or not, not enough breaths on this Earth could be spared for a man with little regard for others.
I managed to talk myself through this script as I cleaned up my belongings, nearly whispering her retorts back. But I would not be deterred! Lost in the monologue, I heard a hoard of boys giggling, getting closer to the door.
No, no. It could not be.
The door opened, the raven haired cardinal stumbled in - his pack of brothers falling behind him. Laughing at some lewd joke, no doubt. He turned to look at me, suddenly stiffening his posture. The smug smile falling from his face. He offered some excuse to the men behind him, closing the door to the two of us. He leaned against the old door frame, creaking under his weight. As if that would make him look cooler. The black cassock he preferred was immaculately ironed - surely not by his own hands. Maybe he was screwing the laundry girls.
I tried hard to keep my gaze away from him. My rage and my pride wouldn’t allow it.
“Scusa sorella, I, eh, lost the time.” He offered with a shrug of his shoulders. His voice was rich with his mother tongue.
“Well, Cardinal, I won’t keep you long, then. Our lesson is canceled.” I coldly retorted.
“Che cosa?”
“Canceled, cardinal.” I spat back, lifting my book and walking towards him. “You were late.”
“But I am here now, no?” That white eye twinkled - a charm that assuredly got him into many sisters’ beds.
“And I have been here, Cardinal. For thirty minutes past our scheduled time. Either your watch is broken or you have so little regard for others that time is no object to you?” I said, every syllable articulated, glaring at him.
His eyebrow quirked, a challenge, he supposed. A grin crossed his face, a chuckle that died in his throat.
“It really is you, eh sister?”
“What?” I shot back, whatever could he mean by that?
“You - you,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one to his lips, lighting it, and puffing the smoke away from us, “I thought my school would be with you. You are the sister that always walks with a stick up her ass.”
I made a pointed effort to cough at his smoke.
“Some of us have priorities besides fucking an entire congregation, Cardinal.”
“Am I really so evil, Sorella?” he feigned offense, the cigarette affecting his enunciation. Removing from his lips, another puff. “To celebrate our eh, how do you say, istinti?”
“Instincts.” I corrected.
“Ah, si, instincts. That is why we are here, no? Our Lord calls us to do just that.”
“You’ve got quite the head start on the sin of lust, Cardinal, I don’t think you could ever live long enough to dedicate your life to such… dedicated studies of the other sins.”
“It is my favorite.” His white gloves took the cigarette from his mouth, curling it between his fingers, before dropping it to the ground to extinguish the flame. His shoes shined brilliantly, even I could admit, but as I gazed at his shoes, I swore he winked at me through the reflection of his face.
“You really shouldn’t smoke, you know.”
“It is not good for me, this I know.” “I couldn’t care about what happens to you, the flame isn’t good for these old buildings. You’d burn down the whole abbey.”
“You say you don’t care about me sister.” He moved past me, further into the room, settling in one of the old teachers' desks. He kicked those expensive shoes onto the desk, relaxing back into the chair. “But I do not think that is so true.”
I faced him fully, still standing near the door. “I promise you, I do not.”
“Hm,” he chuckled, bringing his gloved hand to his mouth, running the fabric gently against his lower, unpainted lip. “No.” He said so sternly.
“What?”
“What?” he mocked me, a voice that was far too high pitched to be an imitation of me.
I let out an exasperated sigh, to which he laughed.
“Fuck you.” I went for my bag, still at the old desk.
“Do you want to know how I know this?” He said, staring at my rage.
“I doubt you ever shut up, so it doesn’t really matter what I want.”
“Sorella,” he sat up in the chair, his feet meeting the ground and his hands coming together on the desk. “We have not spoken any words to each other. But you hate me so much?”
I huffed. “You have no respect for anyone but yourself!” I could feel an all too familiar lump in my throat.
“How do you know this?” His patience now wearing thin, I could hear it.
“You walk around the abbey like you own the place. I get it, I know you’re the future Papa, but God damn it, you are so arrogant. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life! You think you can just fuck anyone and anything that walks through these doors. You’ve had everything handed to you by a silver spoon, and I hate it.”
My eyes watered, I couldn’t look at him. Whether from my rage or some secret hopes I had, I could feel the emotion.
“I’ve worked so fucking hard to get where I am, and I will never be anything close to you, just because you’re, fucking, you! And now, I have to waste my time teaching you English because you can’t stay focused for more than five seconds!”
My fist met the school table. His face leaned into his hands, thinking too carefully about the situation. His eyebrow quirked.
“... You are jealous of me, then?” He hid a smirk behind his hands.
I glared at him, how I wish my stare could kill.
“Fuck. You.”
“That does not sound like a no.” No effort in hiding his smirk now.
“Since when does ‘no’ matter to you?” I baited.
He feigned offense, yet again, bringing his hand to his chest. “Sorella, I am offended! I can promise you all of my sexual encounters have been enthusiastic by all parties. I would not dare to violate another!”
“What a well constructed sentence, Cardinal. It seems like you have no need for any help with the English language.”
“Ah, she has gotten me off of the topic…”
“All I had to do was talk about sex, so it wasn’t too hard, was it now?”
“No, no, no, we were talking about you, si! About how you are so jealous of me.” He ran that stupid fucking gloved hand through his hair, slicked with grease.
“Even now, you cannot say you are not jealous of me. Admit it.”
I paused. “So what?”
He clapped his hands, catching me apparently.
“She is! She is very jealous of my status and my future. But, I think she is jealous of not only me, no?” His tone shifted, in a direction I was not comfortable with.
“What?”
“She is also very jealous of all of the people that I get to fuck.” He punctuated the syllables far too clearly.
I huffed again, rolling my eyes. “There it is again. She does not say ‘no!’”
I hated how well he was reading me.
“Why do you even care? You fuck everything with a pulse, so why do you care?”
Fuck. I was not selling this very well. His gaze told me everything. The raised eyebrow, the smug pull of his painted lips.
He tilted his head, as if to study me further. I could feel myself recoil.
“You have done too much assuming, Sorella. About me, about yourself.”
He stood from the chair and stalked towards me. Instinctively, I crept back from him, nearing the wall for safety.
“You think I do not care about anyone but me, and that is not true. You think I abuse my future position, but that is not true either. And you think I fuck anything with a pulse.” He reached me, cornering me against the wall.
“And that,” he brought his finger to my chin, forcing my eyes to his, “is not true. I only fuck the pretty ones.”
Here is where I could be offended, he never fucked me. I thought that I was fairly pretty, so damn, that kinda hurt my feelings.
Sensing the monologue, “And you are a pretty one.” His painted lips gently touched mine.
God damn it. I hated how good that felt.
“So you see, sister, I knew you thought all of this.” His other hand reached for my waist, exploring the dip of my body. “I saw the way you scowled at me, pretending to hate me. It was all jealousy. But there is something about the way you hated me that pulled me so, so close. I needed to have you.”
“But how to get to you?” His hands reached for mine, holding them in place, behind my back.
“Who better to teach me restraint?” he purred.
“I act like an asshole for a while, speak in Italian with my friends. I get the attention of the Sister Superior, who will certainly demand I be subdued by studies.” His painted lips traveled a path along my jaw to my ear. “And who here have I not fucked?”
His teeth grazed my earlobe. “I could deceive the world for you.”
I bit my lip. His gaze returned to mine.
“Pretty good, no?”
“Pretending you’re stupid was a very believable act, apparently.” I mustered out, flustered as I was.
“Don’t deceive me now, Sorella.” His lips met mine again, pressing his forehead to mine. “There is one thing I need to hear you say.” His words left his mouth easily, but he was not unaffected. Just as flustered as I.
I huffed, pausing for only a moment.
“Si.”
His lips crashed to mine, with a fire that was barely restrained before. He released my hands from behind my back; his hands traveled to my hips, lifting me. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist.
We traveled through the room, locked in the heated kiss, when he sat me on the teacher’s desk.
“On the teacher’s desk?” I giggled, taking in the chosen location.
“It’s always been a fantasy.” He laughed back, then resumed his fury on my neck.
His large hands reached for my habit, pulling it off in a fell swoop. Evident of his experience, it hardly hurt. He pulled away from me, just gazing at me for a moment.
“Pretty one.” As if he didn’t know he said it.
Fuck.
I lead the charge back to his mouth, my hands now locking into his raven locks. The diligent work of unbuttoning that goddamn stupid black cassock. I gave it my best shot. My hands kept slipping on the buttons, struggling to unhook them. He chuckled from our kiss, removing my hands from him.
“Having trouble, darling? It’s always difficult.” His gloved hands made the show unbuttoning each cotton button - traveling down in body in quite the show.
Once to the bottom, he stepped out of the garment and removed his crisp white undershirt. I was out of my body, unaware of how I looked as I looked at him. Each new sight of his skin lit a fire in me. He was as slender as I thought he would be, well defined, certainly. A healthy patch of hair on his chest - he was certainly Italian.
A glance to his eyes knew how I enjoyed his spectacle.
Cocky, arrogant, and headstrong was the Cardinale.
“Your turn.”
He came back to my neck, teasing the delicate flesh. The first moan slipped from my lips as he sucked the skin purple.
“Good girl.” He purred. He lifted my habit from my legs, over my head, leaving me in my undergarments. Pausing his efforts to take in my form. A glance in his eyes - like my body was a feast for his soul. Another look at my undergarments, “Matching?” in reference to the black bra and panties I was sporting.
Guilty.
He leaned closer to me, resting an arm on the table. Teasingly, looking into me.
“Women match when they are planning to be fucked.” My eyes turned from his, embarrassing me again. His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Was there someone else, Sorella?”
I opened my mouth, but the words failed me.
“No.” He answered for me, feigning sympathy. “There wasn’t, was there?”
My mouth hung open, but I couldn’t admit it.
“Say it, then.”
Bastard.
“Say it, pretty one, I do not have all night.” His voice nearly sang.
The fire his was stroking in me burned, “I need you to fuck me.” I whined, my eyes nearly starting to water.
His hand, holding my gaze, went to my shoulder, forcing me to lay on the old, creaking desk. Quickly, he made work removing my bra. Adoringly, he stared at the exposed skin.
Wordlessly, he painted my breasts with his lips. As his lips latched around my nipple, I whimpered, already so sensitive. His other hand toyed with the opposite breast, kneading the flesh. As his teeth grazed the delicate flesh, he nearly pinched the opposite.
Another gasp escaped.
“She likes it when it hurts?”
Obviously. I fucking hated him so much.
He mirrored his actions on the opposite breasts before trailing his kisses further down my torso. Nipping at the skin, kissing it, dragging his tongue.
He left a particularly gentle kiss below my navel, as he gazed back at me. Wordlessly asking.
I nodded.
He hooked his hands to the elastic of the lacy panties, dragging them off of my legs in a well-practiced motion.
“Spread your legs.” I obliged, as he pulled the teacher’s chair to sit in between my legs.
His gaze never left my core, which he could see how he affected me. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders, granting a better view. Biting the fingers of his gloves, removing them. Gently working the muscle of my inner thighs, unconsciously creeping higher.
Reaching my core, his uncovered hands spread me open further to him. He gazed reverently.
“Pretty, pretty girl.” He stroked my slit delicately, I shivered and whined at the feeling. “Such a pretty girl.”
He brought his face close, kissing my mound and licking the slit all the way up. He left gentle kisses onto my already sensitive clit, dying for attention. He latched his lips around the bud, suckling softly.
As his tongue flicked my clit, I bucked my hips into his mouth, firming my grip in his hair.
He unlatched to drag his tongue, flattened, up and down my core. His tongue prodded at my entrance, lapping at my slick. His fingers moved towards my center, replacing his mouth, pressing into me.
One finger - pumping slowly into me - adjusting the feeling. Adding another one, stretching slightly. His eyes studied my face for discomfort. Once I adjusted, his divine mouth returned to my clit, alternating between kissing and suckling. His fingers curled into me, searching. When they found the spongy tissue inside, the moans fell easily. Begging him. He teased the spot, expertly. Pressing into it with each pump, as he sucked on my clit.
“Cardinal-” I started. “I’m getting - close” I managed to get out.
I could feel a smile on his lips as he continued, speeding his actions.
The band in my stomach was burning, stretching, white hot. At the precipice, as my cries started to build.
When suddenly he stopped. Sitting back, removing his mouth and fingers from me.
I shuddered at the loss of sensation, being so close. I sat up slightly to look at him.
The fucker was wiping my slick from his chin, licking his fingers clean.
Apparently, my face told him how close I was, how it was moments away.
“I wanted to feel it on my cock, darling.” His eyebrow raised. “Plus, it feels better when you ruin it a little bit.”
A fight was breaking in my head, an internal debate I was having with him.
His belt jingled, his pants being slid down and discarded. Left in pristine white boxers, which he lowered. His cock sprang free, dripping with his precum.
“I could have came just from tasting you, you know?” as he began languidly stroking himself, using himself to lubricate the movements. “All of your little sounds, they sounded so sweet. And you were oh so close, weren’t you?”
His teasing was back, his hand sped up, only to build himself up more. I whined.
“Just think. Even an hour ago, you were cursing my name, wanting me dead. Look at you now - begging for my cock.”
He pressed his cock into my core, rubbing the reddened head onto my clit. A guttural noise fell from me. An animalistic cry.
“She was so jealous of me, too. And now all she wants to be is fucked by me. Maybe she’ll die if she doesn’t get it, what do you think?”
“Please, Terzo.” “Oh, using my name now? What happened to ‘asshole?’” His voice cracked, unaffected by his own need.
“Please fuck me.” I cried out, a tear falling from my eye.
“Say it again.”
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Tumbling out.
On command, he aligned himself and pressed into my dripping heat. Feeling every inch of my warmth, he shuddered and groaned.
“So, so good” he whispered.
He filled me exquisitely, pressing in carefully, allowing me to adjust. My nails marked his back, savoring every inch.
His hips finally met mine, I swore I could feel him in my stomach. He let out a breath, unsteadied from restraint.
“Don’t have that restraint now, Cardinal.” I teased. “Move.”
A low groan from him, as his hips rolled, moving back. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow if I don't.”
“Try your worst.”
He slammed forward again, now setting a punishing pace. Feeling the drag of his cock on my walls, I whined. His hands tilted my hips further up, angling to my sweet spot. I gasped at the pressure. It was returning - the precipice. He couldn’t rob me a second time.
“Perhaps, sorella, it is you who needs a lesson, eh?” He nearly coughed through, maintaining his pace. “I could teach you something.”
His hand moved towards we were joined, circling my clit. It was becoming too much - the sweet pressure of him inside and now his devious fingers.
His fingers moved quickly on my clit, building the fire again. My moans telling him it all. As if in perfect rhythm, his pistoning hips and circling fingers.
“Let’s countdown, darling. In Italian.”
His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze. He nodded, as if to reassert his power. “It goes…dieci, nove…”
The fire was reaching a breaking point, I knew what he was doing now. His fingers still moved with a steady speed.
“Otto, sette, sei…”
“...Terzo…” I whined.
“Cinque, quattro, tre…”
“I’m gonna…”
“Due, uno.”
The waves of pleasure crashed down on me, my legs shaking. My vision blurry, white hot. His hips stuttered, as I felt him swell inside, riding out my pleasure. Milking him for all he had. The course of our cries rang in the old room. His fingers didn’t stop until I whined with oversensitivity, his spend leaking from me.
He stayed inside, pressing his full weight onto me.
We held each other in an embrace, coming down from divinity. Our breaths in sync, slowing down.
My breath nearly returned to me as I came to, laughing with what air I had.
“What’s so funny?” His smirk shined with a warmth I had not seen before.
“A countdown to my orgasm. Cheeky.”
He laughed. “It worked, eh?”
“Don’t be too full of yourself.”
“I cannot, you are full of me.”
“Ew! Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”
“There is the girl that hates me. I missed her.” He gazed at me, smiling more softly now, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. Holding my face in his hand, so gently. He placed the last soft his to my lips.
“And I’ll never stop hating you, Cardinal.”
“So be it, but it has worked out well for me so far, huh?”
Bastard.
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osamusriceballs · 6 months
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Kinktober Day 9 <3
Sakusa x begging
Warnings: NSFW, fem reader
Words: ~ 1k
Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day
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"What was that? I couldn't hear you there."
He doesn't sound the slightest bit sincere with his hand around your throat, effectively hindering you from speaking any coherent words. There is a dangerous glint in his eyes while he lets his gaze roam over your body, taking in all the marks he has left on your collarbones and cleavage so far.
Blood rushes to your head when he releases his grip on your neck, and you gasp and cough before you take a deep breath and fill your lungs. "Kiyoomi- please- I said please," you still feel lightheaded, your desperation clearly evident in your face.
"Just 'Kiyoomi, please'? That's not enough," he mocks your breathless whimper and suddenly grabs your hips and brings you on top of him, effectively making you straddle his lap. You bring your hands to his shoulders and cling to him, the white number 15 feeling soft under your fingers when you roam one hand down to his chest. His heart beats steady and calm under your fingers, just the slightest bit faster than usual, betraying his calm demeanor.
"C'mon, you wanted me to fuck you, now show me how badly you want it," he taunts you, his baritone vibrating against your body when his lips finally catch yours in a bruising kiss. Your hands dig into his shirt, desperate to keep him close, but he all too soon leans back and rests his upper body on the bed, his dark eyes now focused on you. You sit there for a second, allowing yourself to admire the way he looks so handsome, with his messy hair and still slightly sweaty face after he had just finished the game.
You hesitantly move your hips until you position yourself right above his crotch, an encouraging sound leaving his lips when you slowly grind against him. "Please, Kiyoomi. I want you so bad. Need you so bad." You brace yourself on his chest and start grinding harder, feeling his hard cock between your legs, rubbing you just the right way. "Yeah? Tell me more, princess." His hands rub your thighs, the feeling his bare hands on your skin sending little sparks along the path of his fingers. "Want to feel you inside, Kiyoomi, please. Want you to fill me up, wanna feel your cock," your needy pleas seem to fall on deaf ears, as he still calmly rubs your thighs and doesn't make an attempt to take things further.
"I like the sound of that." He bucks his hips into yours, clearly intent on making you even more desperate. "Take off your shirt." You quickly pull your shirt over your head, throwing the black fabric with the matching number 15 carelessly to the ground, taking a mental note to take it home with you later. Your hands go back to support your body on his chest while you grind on him, his eyes now focused on the pretty black bra that you thoughtfully decided to wear today. "Kiyoomi, please- I want more," you whine, the friction feeling good, yet not enough. "I'm all yours, just take what you need, y/n." There is always something intimate in the way he says your name when you're alone, it rolls like honey from his lips, deep and rich and only serving to spur you on further.
You rub your clit along the length of his cock, the rock-hard outline clearly visible and impossible to miss under his sweats and providing you with enough friction to make you even needier. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, rocking you on his body more vigorously the longer you keep going. His name leaves your lips with a soft plea, the heat now surging through your body while you keep on dry-humping, just rubbing your bodies against each other and keeping intense eye-contact.
"Y/n- ahh- please-" a groan leaves his lips, his hips bucking against your body. The sudden movement makes you close your eyes from pleasure, the muscles in your thighs slowly getting sore and tired but he's helping you keeping up your pace. Your nails dig into his chest and your body tenses as you slowly build up more friction with each grind against his body. A needy whimper of his name leaves your lips, and you rut against him like you're in heat, the sound of rustling clothes and your moans filling the room. Your jaw drops when you feel yourself slowly working towards the edge, a last "Kiyoomi-" leaving your lips before your body succumbs and brings you to your high. Your thighs clench around his hips, your body rocking on frantically while you clench around nothing, the hard outline of his cock just perfect for you to grind on, the intensity of the slowly build up orgasm overwhelming to you.
You breathe heavily when you calm down from your high, now carefully sitting a back to not hurt him, and he catches your hands on his chest while he sits up, seemingly effortlessly and elegant. He brings one hand to your cheek and tilts your face upwards to meet him, and the way his eyes captivate yours makes your heart beat faster again. A slight blush covers his cheeks, a rare sight on him, before he connects your lips, deeply kissing you and inserting his tongue in your mouth softly. You move your lips, simply following his lead as he presses your barely clad chest against his and holds you close, his still hard cock clearly evident between your bodies. He parts slowly, his pupils wide from lust and a barely noticeable smile adorns his lips while he directs your body on the mattress, not caring about your whines of of being sensitive, but instead encouragingly patting your backside.
"Come on, princess. Get that ass up and face down. I want to hear you beg some more."
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boxalienist · 2 years
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Padmé Amidala on Mustafar 19BBY
Oil on canvas
Commissioned by Peter T. (posted with permission)
Art Reference: Miguel Carbonell Selva, Death of Sappho, 1881
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abbyhaslongshorts · 1 year
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lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship
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