I need to make out with that man so bad.
Need to give him a kiss both hungry and craving that has a muffled moan of surprise leaving him before he sinks into it, his hands quick to hold along my waist as he pulls me closer to him. That languid form of hunger lingers before I feel his tongue graze against my bottom lip, my hands reaching to bunch his collar as I let him deepen the kiss.
I need to press him to the wall and practically cling to him as I sink deeper into his kiss, a soft grunt of shock leaving him before I hear him groan against my lips. When I tug on his collar I want to unbutton his shirt just enough for his collarbones to poke through, enough for him to feel the chill of the lab against his bare skin in contrast to my warm hands. I want to feel him groan against my lips as my body presses firmer against his in each kiss.
I want to feel his hand trail up my back beneath my shirt, need to feel the mix of a hum and a growl he presses to my neck when I break the kiss with a gasp at his touch, something that only grows when I feel his hands shift to lift me. His pace is brisk as he takes me to the operating table, kiss-bitten lips still brushing against mine as I feel him lay me down against it.
I need to feel him kiss me so fervently the moment my back meets the cool steel, need to feel how he moans and shakes in the haze of pleasure as my hands clutch his open shirt to bring him down with me. Need to finally, finally card my fingers through his hair as he straddles me, hands trailing along my body as I can feel how hard he is this close to him.
I need to feel him gasp and whimper against me when I grind up against him, need to pull a deep, heady moan from him before his lips trail to press kisses and hickeys along my neck, all while I keep rocking against him. Need him to kiss me deeply when he comes back to press to my lips, needy yet weighing, as I’m already breaking the kiss to answer his question with a gasp of “Please. Please, I need you.”
I need to feel how he hums against my lips, grins when he hears how strong my need for him is, need to feel him murmur against my lips that he needs me just as badly before he takes me back in the hunger of his kiss. I need us to lose ourselves to the bliss of the other’s touch, unknowing or uncaring to the fact that someone could walk in at any moment.
I need to ride Fritz Ludwig so bad.
Just. Something about the image of me haloed by whatever light there may be as I straddle him, how I can feel the way his cock pulses inside me as he looks up at me with a gaze of pure worship. That light almost seeming brighter, warmer, as he takes me into an impassioned kiss and his hands on my hips come to encourage me to bounce on his cock.
Oh the halo imagery got me acting unwise
I’m not looking for absolution,
Because I found myself an old solution.
thinking about having my body worshipped by by a priest, cooing in my ear as he fucks me, telling me how divine I am, how god must truly have made me in his image because he’s never seen anything as holy and godlike as me before
people always talk about makeup sex and angry sex but how about comfort sex? just holding one hands while they kiss you softly all over your body. every kiss partnered with sweet praise and compliments. gentle bites on your thighs. each touch is just so soft against your skin as though you were an angel that had fallen just for them.
put him in the locket
there’s nothing sexier than a sweet kiss right on the clit
yeah bro it's a character study. the 2 thousand words of blowjob is vital to the study of the character
L | 26 | They/ThemOccasional writer, avid piner.[often suggestive leaning/NSFW centric | MINORS DNI]
215 posts