winter catch-all

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🌸WHO: Otegine and various
🌸WHAT: Open prompts and closed starters for winter into endgame
🌸WHEN: From Winter 1 onwards
🌸WHERE: Various
🌸WARNINGS: nsfw is labeled!

Please hit up my discord, plurk, PMs or plotting if you'd like a closed starter!

Comments

Can't believe im using notegine icons seriously

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[There's a hum of a chuckle up his body as he leans himself out of the crook of Owen's neck, catching that smirk with a softly satisfied smile of his own, draping over him close enough for their noses to brush.]

You sure?

[His touch withdraws, just long enough to bring his hand to his own mouth and exhale hotly against the skin. With the extra warmth, the butt of his palm takes over for his thumb, kneading into the swell building up under the fabric of his pants.

How was it that he'd been before, exactly, that time Owen reacted so well towards him that night at the hot springs... he has to think about it a little longer than his counterpart, and the words don't hold quite the sadistic bite. But he remembers the sensation of it, the power that held his body up with confidence. He might not be an unshakable god... but he still was a Touken Danshi. He could hold his own, even with the powerful man who he was growing to cherish so deeply.

So his own smile grows a little cocky, just as it had after their first kiss, a slight cock of his head to the side.]

Show me?

Tell me with your body, however you need to. Tell me I'm yours.

[And with that, he leans in to lock their lips back together, a far more passionate attempt than his previously chaste kiss, letting his hand continue its work to make sure Owen would be perfectly ready and waiting for his mouth to take over.]

owen jumpscare

[sicklysweet]

[He nods. He’s sure, of course he’s sure. There’s been an overwhelming number of things here that he’s not sure of, so many things that have been eating at him or confusing him, but this, at least?

He’d be an idiot to turn down Otegine servicing him. It doesn’t make it less frustrating that he can’t talk, that he can’t goad or encourage him, but he can speak with his body as best as he can.

He meets the kiss eagerly, rocking up into Otegine’s touch. Maybe it’s his emotions still running high, or his body is just more sensitive after reconstructing itself, or it’s simply the fact that it’s Otegine and any moment with him would be blissful, but he’s already painfully hard. He rocks against Otegine’s hand, reaching between them to work at the button on his pants. It’s a bit difficult because he doesn’t want to stop kissing him, but he’s… eager. Very eager, but some concessions might have to be made.]

gasps gently... henlo

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[He can't help the heated exhale that escapes from him at how fast Owen's body comes to attention under him, kneading his palm long and slow into the rocking of Owen's hips. Even without words, it's evidence of its own that the wizard is enjoying himself, that Otegine's actions are having the desired effect. He's doing good, isn't he? Doing something good, just for this special one... this eclectic and powerful and selfish man he wants to marry.

He breaks their liplock only when he finally needs air, his smile almost mischievous as his fingers meet Owen's at the clasp of his pants - not to stop, but to help the process.]

Easy, easy... you're really ready for me, huh. [As soon as there's room past the zipper, Otegine's hand slips straight back to work, fully cupping Owen's erection through what little fabric remains of his underwear. He should probably just start with his mouth, given how swollen Owen already feels against his fingers... but Owen liked when he pushed a little bit, didn't he?

Maybe he could make him squirm a little. Let him ride in the pleasure enough to earn a sulk or two.

Heat sinks into his own hips as he slowly pumps Owen through the fabric, a teasing pace just meant to keep him alert. His free hand slips down to pop two more buttons loose of Owen's shirt, the warmth of his fingers finding the cold peak of his nipple to run between his thumb and forefinger in a similar rhythm.

With a flexing tension of his wrist, the yari tugs just a little tighter against the tip of Owen's cock through the thin fabric, at the same time taking up the sensitive nub of his chest with a careful but abrupt yank between his knuckles. A sudden, sharp pang from both chest and groin, before letting both of them fall right back into a slower grinding rhythm. It's an action that's repeated, a little harder each time, burying his face into Owen's neck to take skin between his teeth and start to leave a mark, then another.

How long can he go until Owen starts to writhe?]