Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
Every slap and shudder of bodies together stills in an instant. Pleasure rises and then stretches suddenly out into the new void of wait. There’s not enough sharpness or volume to the word for worry to crawl in around it, but a painfully curious ”what?” returns to her. His gaze lances through the steam building up behind his eyes, evidence of all the ways she’s set him on fire. She doesn’t make it easy, this idea of grasping back a cord of composure he’d long since pulled and flung off somewhere to the side. She rocks back against him, and gods for a second he’s sure she only means to torture him with this halt, like some wicked game of Simon Says in bed. ”Not. Helping.” comes the groaned complaint, head tipping down into her shoulder like the strength to hold it up is far too much now among everything else.
Something earns the faintest uptick in his expression, and it’s enough reassurance that nothing is currently fucked (other than them). ”Is it finally time for the sky-anchor swivel kiss?” A grin dares to edge in, though it vanishes the moment her hips kick back against him again. The wait is less command than patience now that he knows what she means, and fuck if that doesn’t make it that much harder to maintain it. Call him a cat though, he’s curious.
”Yes ma’am,” he breathes against her skin, dick saluting her as it pops free. As he pulls back, she comes with. It’s so fluid and quick that it feels as if there’s still a portion of them joined together, an invisible tether made from all the thread they’ve pulled out of one another in an effort to come undone. He settles anew on the couch, quiet with expectation, but leaning back to take her upon him readily. She has never been shy, and maybe it’s all the drills he’s had screamed at him, but the way she’s commanding him around is ensuring there’s no drop in his arousal, that’s for sure.
His hands squeeze in at the dip of her hips as she fills herself with all of him again, her weight and control on top of him making it feel like something brand new again. He hums out a note of approval, but it isn’t long before she puppets one of his hands up and up and around her throat. He’s so intent on watching the outcome of this that his gaze does not immediately meet hers, instead watching the feathering of her blood along her neck where his fingers now encircle like large, discount jewelry. His eyes do catch on hers though, flicking there less in a bid for understanding than certainty and approval.
The aqua look he discovers is not a bright sea or roaring ocean. This is something electric, like lightning skating over a lake so deathly still it could pass as polished stone. There’s something undoubtedly serious there, but also bristling with a force that begs not to be contained. ”We have a word,” he nods, the reminder as much for her as himself. Maybe it’s not the reason the word had been made, but it serves the same effect here, something much more immediate than wait. ”Rupert,” he says low and slow, fingers finding the shape of her throat instead of lingering just off it.
He has never wanted to harm her, and this brushes unusually close to that in a way that wants to resist. However, he’s extending to her the same trust she just unfolded for him. A belief in each other, and a desire to do right by one another. He’d asked, and he does not regret it. He’d not contain that storm in her gaze any longer than necessary. He’d have it strike, again and again, because scars or not, he does not fear the thunder and lightning of the world.
He might not have done this for the same reasons, but he’s no choking virgin. Effecting opponents in a variety of ways has always been part of training, because for however strong your enemy is, they still need to breathe, and there’s not a lot of training you can build up for one of your most vulnerable areas. It’s a weak spot to exploit, and it takes far less pressure than most people realize to deliver crippling damage there. The entirety of these thoughts don’t flare up in full, but the shape of them guides the way he holds her now. It’s careful, this collar of pressure, and it presses in subtly on one side of her neck more than the other, more than the front. A bracket for her to lean into if she wants more, and he’s acutely aware of every minor adjustment in her now.
”I’ve got you,” he reassures, breath growing more ragged as she sets their pace now, tipping each of them towards a new edge.
Something earns the faintest uptick in his expression, and it’s enough reassurance that nothing is currently fucked (other than them). ”Is it finally time for the sky-anchor swivel kiss?” A grin dares to edge in, though it vanishes the moment her hips kick back against him again. The wait is less command than patience now that he knows what she means, and fuck if that doesn’t make it that much harder to maintain it. Call him a cat though, he’s curious.
”Yes ma’am,” he breathes against her skin, dick saluting her as it pops free. As he pulls back, she comes with. It’s so fluid and quick that it feels as if there’s still a portion of them joined together, an invisible tether made from all the thread they’ve pulled out of one another in an effort to come undone. He settles anew on the couch, quiet with expectation, but leaning back to take her upon him readily. She has never been shy, and maybe it’s all the drills he’s had screamed at him, but the way she’s commanding him around is ensuring there’s no drop in his arousal, that’s for sure.
His hands squeeze in at the dip of her hips as she fills herself with all of him again, her weight and control on top of him making it feel like something brand new again. He hums out a note of approval, but it isn’t long before she puppets one of his hands up and up and around her throat. He’s so intent on watching the outcome of this that his gaze does not immediately meet hers, instead watching the feathering of her blood along her neck where his fingers now encircle like large, discount jewelry. His eyes do catch on hers though, flicking there less in a bid for understanding than certainty and approval.
The aqua look he discovers is not a bright sea or roaring ocean. This is something electric, like lightning skating over a lake so deathly still it could pass as polished stone. There’s something undoubtedly serious there, but also bristling with a force that begs not to be contained. ”We have a word,” he nods, the reminder as much for her as himself. Maybe it’s not the reason the word had been made, but it serves the same effect here, something much more immediate than wait. ”Rupert,” he says low and slow, fingers finding the shape of her throat instead of lingering just off it.
He has never wanted to harm her, and this brushes unusually close to that in a way that wants to resist. However, he’s extending to her the same trust she just unfolded for him. A belief in each other, and a desire to do right by one another. He’d asked, and he does not regret it. He’d not contain that storm in her gaze any longer than necessary. He’d have it strike, again and again, because scars or not, he does not fear the thunder and lightning of the world.
He might not have done this for the same reasons, but he’s no choking virgin. Effecting opponents in a variety of ways has always been part of training, because for however strong your enemy is, they still need to breathe, and there’s not a lot of training you can build up for one of your most vulnerable areas. It’s a weak spot to exploit, and it takes far less pressure than most people realize to deliver crippling damage there. The entirety of these thoughts don’t flare up in full, but the shape of them guides the way he holds her now. It’s careful, this collar of pressure, and it presses in subtly on one side of her neck more than the other, more than the front. A bracket for her to lean into if she wants more, and he’s acutely aware of every minor adjustment in her now.
”I’ve got you,” he reassures, breath growing more ragged as she sets their pace now, tipping each of them towards a new edge.
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
