Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
The way she takes him robs him of his vision for a moment. Pleasure breaks through with such monumental force that there is nothing but the flash of heat behind his eyes, alive on every nerve, until at least he’s sunk himself fully into her. Clarity seeps back in as she reaches for him, and in answer, he leans into the grip of her arms, head tipping a kiss into one. Or so he means to. It smears across her skin instead, lips pulling back over teeth and breath that forces its way out, hot and heavy across her. The carefulness abandons him as he shudders, the exquisite feel of her as good on the withdrawal as the first thrust.
”Fucking hell Flora,” half curse, half praise, the rest falls off his tongue in a rasp of air. There is nothing in either of them that resembles patience now, and as she claws and fights and drags him closer, his hips rock back against her, urgent and answering. His hands leave their seat on her hips, one bracing near her head, allowing him to sink closer to her until her breasts skim across his chest with every decisive rock of their bodies.
His other hand gathers her as equally as she has him, or as much as he can manage to (he’d reflect later that more hands would have been useful here). Fingers curl around her shoulder, serving as an anchor so that every collision between them doesn’t send her further away from his reach. He’s pursuing the depths of her, the tilt of her ass against the armrest and the added arch of her into him guiding his cock in full, and still he hungers for more of her.
”Fucking hell Flora,” half curse, half praise, the rest falls off his tongue in a rasp of air. There is nothing in either of them that resembles patience now, and as she claws and fights and drags him closer, his hips rock back against her, urgent and answering. His hands leave their seat on her hips, one bracing near her head, allowing him to sink closer to her until her breasts skim across his chest with every decisive rock of their bodies.
His other hand gathers her as equally as she has him, or as much as he can manage to (he’d reflect later that more hands would have been useful here). Fingers curl around her shoulder, serving as an anchor so that every collision between them doesn’t send her further away from his reach. He’s pursuing the depths of her, the tilt of her ass against the armrest and the added arch of her into him guiding his cock in full, and still he hungers for more of her.
Kaisel
Sexy jutsu, I feel like Naruto—Fightin' demons in my head like I'm Itadori
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
