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[caen-dy]

₊˚⊹♡ HE'S A LITTLE BIT OLDER (like super old) BUT DAMN IT, HE'S SO HOT .ᐟ

mix the older guy down the bar who witnesses you bemoan your breakup, rough tumbling around the sheets, and overstimulation... featuring toji fushiguro and praise kink!  you're at a bar on a chilly christmas eve after going through the absolute worst dry spell of your life, drowning your sorrows with the bartender who's not so subtly trying to kick you out so they can go home and celebrate their own festivities. but after hearing you bemoan about the fact that your ex never even made you cum throughout the entirety of your already flawed relationship? toji finally thinks of a way to get on the nice list this year. fruitcake recipe masterlist ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

All you wanted for Christmas was a good, hard fuck. 

The kind that left you breathless and sobbing, pleasure and pain that intensifies with every thrust that knocks the bed harder into the wall. Something ravenous, something primal to scratch the itch that's laid too dormant inside of you.

No, really. Some people want joyful, fuzzy little puppies or floral, sickly-sweet perfumes under the Christmas tree, but your request is a little bit more complex than can be written down on a wishlist. Your FedEx delivery driver was only so strong. But you owed it to yourself, you rationalized. You've been oh so good. The pinnacle of the nice list, even. After two years in an unsatisfying relationship with a partner who always veered a little too far or too slow from what you wanted, you should've been free, free to do whatever it was that you wanted, whoever you wanted. For the first time, you had options! In your endless visions, you expected to find smoke and fireworks and mussed up sheets, liberating flings and a revolving door of lovers to loosen up your self-control. 

Instead, you were greeted with encounters that lacked what you really needed. A couple perfunctory faked orgasms, desert-dry thrusts, and awkward small talk at the door left a deeply unsatisfying mark on you.

Realistically, it didn't even have to be mind-blowingly amazing. You know that there's a one-in-a-million chance for that kind of bed chemistry in this day and age, but hey, go big or go home, right?

A normal person would've downloaded Tinder or Hinge, maybe Bumble if you were feeling particularly desperate, to browse through a disappointing selection of lonely singles just like you for a festive holiday fuck to scratch a tiny itch of desire that still remains untouched under your skin. You didn't want to sink back into the same-old song and dance though, just to end up getting left high and dry at curtain call. 

And as old-fashioned you may be, but you prefer to meet your suitors in person, a lost art, honestly.

Your plan ultimately backfires during Christmas Eve on a Tuesday night, when you walk into your hometown bar having had enough to crickets and dust bunnies. You check your phone again, furrowing an eyebrow at what your phone has directed you to. It was the only bar open late tonight, unsurprisingly. From the outside, it's unassuming, if not a little bit janky from age, but beggars can't exactly be choosers. Your eyes slowly drag along the half-falling apart neon sign before shrugging. 

To your surprise, it's not completely empty. A couple guests look up as you walk through the dilapidated door, eyeing you appraisingly for just a second before going back to their stale beers. Ouch. There's a few elderly patrons playing pool as "Last Christmas" crackles tauntingly through the overhead speakers. A little too on the nose, honestly. 

The song continues to croon softly as you squeak down on a rickety barstool. You don't even realize that your shoulders have been stiff and tense for the better part of the walk there; and relaxing still takes most of your psyche. Still, you continue to observe your surroundings, lost in your head until a large figure makes his way to where you are. A voice, a low and disinterested drawl snaps you out of your thoughts. "What do you want?"

The figure, in question, looks like he's just stepped off your recent sex-deprived dreams. He's got a look in his eyes that oozes the kind of confidence you develop after years of experience, a lazy ease and indifferent wisdom that goes hand in hand to make an intoxicating concoction of a man. You play around with the idea of just how much older he is than you, calculating risk vs. reward. Interested, you eye the lopsided name tag that rests on top of one pec.

Amused, you notice that he's got frown lines, deepening the scar that adorns the right corner of his lips, permanently making him look petulant. Cute.

Sinfully, the primal part of your brain contemplates if he'll scowl the same way against your skin, hot breath fanning over your shoulder as he ruts into you. But as quickly as the thought encroaches your mind, it fades when the bartender continues to look at you in mild confusion, and you will your slack-jawed face to go back to something a little less embarrassing and telling of the fact that you were just fantasizing about a bartender you've just met. "Well? What'll it be?"

A glance at the slightly faded menu above him, though it's even more concealed by his head of dark hair. You choose, impulsive and mindless and maybe trying to seem older than you are. "An espresso martini."

"Machine's broken."

Your eyes narrow, unconvinced. "Then I'll take a regular martini."

"We're out of vermouth."

What kind of fucking bar is this? "Seriously?"

"It's Christmas Eve and we're the only bar open within 25 miles. We're not exactly the Ritz. What exactly did you expect?" He raises an eyebrow, but there's a twinkle of something amused in his eyes. You realize, that he's having fun with this.

Exasperated, you slump further into your stool. "Then just give me something. I don't care what it is."

He slides you a Bud Light, to your eternal despair. You don't even have to look to see he's chuckling from behind the counter on the other side of the bar. 

In defiance, it sits melting in front of you while you go back to people-watching, half-listening to whatever game is on the television and occasionally perking up when you see one of the patrons sink one of the balls during pool. Eventually, even those sources of entertainment fall through as the cable stutters and guests around the bar slowly shuffle out.

"I know I'm a shit bartender, but I worked hard on that. You're hurting my feelings here, doll."

You roll your eyes. "You cracked open a mini-fridge and called it a day. Not exactly impressed, here."

"Oh, come on."

Toji cracks you open like an egg. Your rambling, embarrassingly enough, starts with a tirade about the weather. "God, doesn't it scare you? Climate change and all? The fact that we're almost through December and we haven't even seen a tiny glimpse of snow? Not even a speck?"

He rolls his eyes, but he can't necessarily disagree.

Toji lets you go on and on about your recent dating mishaps, life after a long-term relationship, how painfully aware it's made you of your own loneliness and like a champ, he takes it all in stride, grunting in response to your little quips while cleaning off the rest of the bar. But when you start talking about your recent dilemma, he stands at attention. 

One hand poised under your chin, lashes fanning lowly against your cheek as you bemoan about your situation. "I just—I've been waiting for god knows how long for a decent fuck, you know? You probably don't understand because you're basically sex on a stick," His lips curl to one side. "But the dating scene is just so bleak right now. At this point, I don't even know if it ever will happen to me."

Your words linger a second longer than you'd like, and you look up to see Toji lost in his thoughts for a change. "Toji?"

And then he meets your eyes, will renewed. "You still have time, you know."

When he sees that you're still confused, he gives you a once-over from head to toe.

"I can give you what you want," Toji's voice drops to almost a whisper, conspiratorally, like waving a carrot in front of a bunny. "All you have to do is ask."

Your eyes dart around the bar, unexpectedly nervous and your voice comes out just an octave higher than you want it to be. Distantly, Toji thrums his long, skillful fingers along the hard wood of the bar as you consider your options.

Carefully, you consider your options. You decide to play with your luck. "I think you overestimate your abilities. I'm not the type to come after a few weak thrusts." You don't mean a single word of it, but it's worth it to see his eyes darken. "I'm serious. I was in a relationship for two years and a couple minutes of unsatisfying bumping and grinding won't do it for me."

Toji looks at you, cocking his head like he's speaking with a petulant pupil. 

"I'm an old man, sweetheart. You want a quick fuck, but you're not gonna get that from me. Your issue is that you're too impatient," Before you can interrupt, that you've been patient for long enough, he serves you a scathing look, half-disbelieving and half-taunting. "But I know a thing or two, and I know for a fact that only good girls who wait get what the deserve."

And does he make you wait.

By the end of his shift, you're about ready to jump him, squirming in your seat while Toji diligently takes his time meticulously cleaning the bar with an almost-empty Lysol spray that you doubt actually cleans anything and counting the register with too-slow calculations. But what drives you crazy is the way he doesn't spare even a single glance in your direction, a razor sharp focus that gets you soaked and needy. You did not strike him for the particular type at all, but it seems that for tonight, he's gunning for Employee of the Year. 

Then, finally, he goes to the door and flips the sign to 'CLOSED.' And then the lights flicker off, leaving nothing but a red glow and a counter between the two of you and finally, finally he gives you a measured glance that makes your heart soar.

"Are you gonna be good for me?"

Absolutely.

You barely make it to the break room at the back of the bar. There's not really any room for complaints with the way he grabs hold of you, slotting his lips against yours, hot and wet kisses that suck the need out of you.

Within seconds, you pick up on the kind of kisser that Toji is. The kind to kiss you senseless, bullying his tongue into your eager mouth, eager to please, eager to be satisfied. One of his hands is quick to snake around your throat and you gasp, fraying at the edges and threatening to pull you apart. You feel his lips chuckle against yours, and instinctually, you pout, only for him to suck on your bottom lip, just on this side of breathless.

He tastes like every single thing that's bad for you, and it's fucking delicious. 

"Toji—oh, fuck—what about—oh, keep doing that, yes, what about t–the bar?" You wonder aloud, interrupted every millisecond with an insistent, needy kiss against your lips.

His voice is husky and sends vibrations down your spine. "Stop talking."

"Walking around, wearing this…" Toji groans like a desperate man as he palms against the plush of your ass, feeling the lacy skin there. Once more, hard enough to leave a mark. You've never been more grateful to wear a skirt in your life. "You're in trouble."

You hum. "I guess I am. What are you gonna do about it?"

"You like my hands?"

A pause, a reddening of your cheeks that creeps lower, lower, lower, as the rough pads of his thumb and index finger play with the pretty little red bow that sits so nicely on the crest of your cleavage. Like his own personal present. "Yeah. I do."

Toji hums appreciatively. "I think you'd like them better inside you, don't you think?"

A devious smile creeps onto his lips when you nod, all too pliant and willing. "What a good girl," He watches with darkened eyes as you obediently stick out your tongue, presenting your mouth to him and allowing him to stick his digits inside. Prodding deeper and deeper until he meets the back of your throat, making your eyes water and gag around the forceful sensation. But to his and your surprise, your tongue swirls around his fingers, forcing yourself in deeper. "Oh, fuck. You're naughty." 

You grin, giddily pleased with yourself.

He's slow and methodical with the way he snakes his way between your legs, a rush of warmth rushing to meet him as he strokes your engorged bundle of nerves languidly through lace. You can hear the wet, clicking noises of your cunt from a mile away, 

Brows knitting together, you struggle to form a cohesive thought. He hasn't—he hasn't even gotten inside of you yet and here you are, jelly-legged and grinding mindlessly against the palm of his hand. You're hyper aware of the way he toys with your pussy lips through the fabric, his saliva-soaked knuckles brushing against your clit in a way that forces your back to arch into the feeling. "Fuck. Please, please. Get inside of me."

A slap against your clit has you jolting. A long, unexpected moan tumbles out of your lips and your eyes widen, searching Toji's eyes for answers.

"You've gotta want it, sweet girl," Toji clicks his tongue. "You're gonna have to try harder than that."

"Pl–Please? Please, Toji? Please, I'll be so good, I'll—I'll do whatever you want, whatever it is, I'm, I swear—"

"Use your words. Please what?" "Please! Please fuck me, use me how you want, I just—I want—."

His voice turns low and mocking. "You want, you want, you want. So selfish. That's all your generation does nowadays, isn't that right? Want."

It's hard to protest when the words just keep dying on the edge of your tongue, the push and pull of his fingers keeping you on the edge. 

"You're lucky you're cut. You deserve to cum, don't you?" His voice is low and taunting, but his fingers pump in and out of you in a way that has you reeling, gripping on for dear life, animalistic and desperate. You don't even want to think about how you look, panting and pawing at the black cotton of his shirt. "You want me to give you your first orgasm?"

You nod, whining high in your throat as he finally, finally curls his fingers in just the right way up inside of you. It sends sparks down your spine and just for a moment, you feel the world collapse in on you, all your tensions melting away.

His fingers are glistening from your cunt as he pries his hand away, and the way you groan is depraved as he reaches for a taste, tongue sinfully tasting your juices and taking his sweet, sweet time. Then, he reaches for you, voice unexpectedly soft as he instructs you, "Open up," and his tongue drifts out to meet yours, sickly sweet and tart. 

Toji parts from your lips and leaves you dizzy and bare for just a second, until you feel the hard bulge that's been begging for your notice. "It's my turn."

Slowly, you watch as he peels off the rest of his clothes in one swift movement, every uncontrolled action adding to the height of your anticipation.

And then you're rewarded as Toji sinks into your slippery cunt with a tight, restrained groan just as you moan wantonly, low and uncontrolled, a stark contrast. You've never been stuffed this full. "What a poor, sweet girl. This cunt's been waiting too long to get the fucking she deserves, huh?" 

When he starts to set a pace, hard and unforgiving and hilt-deep, you disintegrate. It's amplified by him sinking into your tight wetness and leaving you emptied out when he draws his hips back, plundering you over and over and over.

Your second orgasm comes as a surprise that rocks your world, felt throughout your entire body as you arch deeper onto his cock. The pleasure overtakes all your senses, and above you, Toji thinks he just fell in love.

"Your ex is a dead man. He's so fucking dead. I can't—" Toji moans into your neck, renewing his pace inside of you once you've somewhat drifted back to earth until you're mewling farther into the table, back arching as your nails scratch against the hard wood, hands slipping until you eventually just slump down. "Can't fucking believe anyone would ever neglect this pussy. Best feeling on earth. God, I'm obsessed with you."

He looms over you, a furnace of heat on your back as his hands tighten on your hips and forces your legs even wider to get even deeper. You can't help but gasp at how demanding and powerful he feels, whole body sliding up the table with every hard thrust. There's the feeling of sweat on your skin and the whole room reeks of sex.

"I'll keep you," Toji promises with a snarl. "All for myself. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

Eventually, you're rearranged on your back, forced to look into his eyes as he continues with his demanding rutting against your tortured pussy. Still, his thick cock continues spearing you open. You don't even realize you're begging until he's chuckling darkly, eyes fond and amused. "Keep begging, sweetheart."

"God—oh my god—fuck, fuck—thank you, need it, needed it so bad, thank you, thank you—-" Your teeth clench after he slowly pulls out and bullies his way back in, swept further and further until your orgasm suddenly comes out of nowhere.

You come for the third time that night, hard and earth-shattering, all over his cock, mouth open in a soundless scream. Your fingers scrape along his back for salvation and Toji hisses, whispering filthy hot praises that leaves you dizzy and reeling. 

It doesn't take Toji much time to chase after you with his own orgasm, howling and breaths coming out in ragged pants. You can feel it—when he pulls out, your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his cum leak out from your hole. It's a scorching feeling, tears welling up once more in your eyes as he finally pauses, overwhelmed and happy and so exquisitely spent.

When the room stills and your world quiets, all that's left is Toji continuing to kiss along the column of your throat, sucking harshly then laving the area with soft kisses, still continuing to stoke the fire inside of you. You wonder in a daze if he'll leave marks, and you lean further in, still lazing in the afterglow.

You stay like that for a tad longer than you probably should, tangled all up in each other like a knotted bow and lingering in your orgasmic bliss. Finally—Toji breaks the silence.

"Well, since I've given you the best sex of your life, don't suppose you're gonna get me my present next?" Toji grins, wolfish. Blurrily, you look behind him to see the time. 12:01 AM. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

‧₊ ᵎᵎ ‧₊ 🍒⋅ ˚✮ nice list .ᐟ @celloccino @wil10wthetree @the-lazyyy-artist @planetxella @ilovesugurugeto69 @zeninslut @writtenapoiogy @hel-lhound @raxshall @thatsindigo @katsunatsu @anesthesa @liz9898 @jamie-loves-you @creamflix @vamqyx

[caen-dy]

Your boyfriend loved playing with your pussy. And, no, not in a sexual way.

You were cuddling, your back resting against his chest while his tired eyes were fixed on the TV after a long day. Your legs were spread and his big hands were subconsciously roaming lazily over your relaxed body, down, down until he reached the waistband of your pretty panties. You glanced down at his hand when he slid it under your underwear, meeting your soft pussy lips.

You looked up at him when he started rubbing and pinching your folds only to see your almost sleepy boyfriend staring at the TV, very drawn into the show. He didn't even look at you, not even a slight flinch. Because, well, he was too damn relaxed, watching TV while playing with your pussy because he loved how soft and puffy it was.

You whimpered lowly, turning your attention back to the TV while he kept molding your pretty pussy.

A few minutes later, you started squirming when he accidentally rubbed your little bud, making you leak.

And, without noticing, he slid his thick fingers down to your sappy cunt, rubbing small circles over it before moving them back to your clit, making it throb.

You bit your lip, lifting your hips against his hand, meanwhile he chuckled softly at the forgotten TV show in the background.

He kept playing with your clit and cunt until you were all soaked, holding back your moans when your clit started throbbing deliciously against his fingers while you orgasmed.

Finally, he looked down at you, noticing his very flushed and lustful little girlfriend. Then, his eyes moved down to his hand, sliding it out of your panties. His fingers were sticky, soaked with your arousal.

[caen-dy]

thinking about you and boothill both spending the day together for crimbas... nsft because it gets a spicy 😳

He spoils you absolutely rotten with gifts. One of your favorites is the plushie he bought you during one of his trips; it's some alien animal you don't recognize, but it's so incredibly charming that you don't mind. He bought this blanket that's absolutely sinfully soft, and the two of you immediately bundle up together on the couch. You lay across his chest as he rubs circles into your back, and watching movies turns into half-watching movies when you creep upward to kiss him, all slow and tender. He purrs into your mouth, one hand raising to bury in your hair.

You spend... quite a bit of time like that, devouring each other with a steadily increasing hunger, but never crossing the threshold into true, burning heat. Eventually, long after the credits have rolled, you pull away with a heaving breath, your lips and tongue aching from where he's been nibbling at them.

Oh, and how beautiful he looks underneath you, his eyes soft with a low, smoldering arousal, his hair slightly mussed from your touch, his lips indented with the markings of your teeth. He looks like he wants to consume you whole, like he wants to slide you up the couch and let you pin his face between your thighs and beg you to use him however you please.

But if you do that, your plans will be very much derailed - so you slowly sit up and away from him, mourning the distance.

"I'm gonna go get changed," you murmur, slowly tracing the exposed plating of his abdomen.

He shivers under your touch, swallowing heavily as he looks you up and down, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Wait for me in the bedroom, won't you?" you say, your voice dipping into something taunting, something tempting, something almost lascivious.

Without another word, you slide off of his lap and pad off to the bathroom, feeling his gaze burn into your back.

The moment the door closes behind you, a wicked grin overtakes your face. You've already given all of your gifts to him for the day-

All except one.

You kneel down and quietly open the cupboards below the sink, pulling out the small, inconspicuous box tucked in the back. It's been here for weeks, waiting for its time to shine.

Or, rather, your time to shine.

You swallow as you lift the lingerie from the wrapping, running your fingers along the soft red lace and decorative bows and ribbons. God, you pray this will look as good on you as you hope it will.

You strip, shivering subtly at the chill of the room; without any delay, you get to work putting on all of the pieces - girtle, garters (the moment you see them around your thighs, you know he's going to go absolutely postal), the skimpiest bustier you've ever seen in your life (and dear fucking lord does it make your chest look incredible), and plenty of other miniscule pieces that take you ages to figure out. The thigh-length stockings are especially agonizing, because they're essentially just twisting spirals of ribbon - but once you get them on, you know it was worth it. The ribbons are just tight enough to squeeze around your thighs and calves, and you'd bet your life that he's going to lose his mind over the subtle bulge of your skin in the spaces between. You add a few finishing touches - most important is the bow that you tie delicately around your neck, the ends dipping tauntingly between your breasts. Finally, once you're done, you take a long look at yourself in the mirror.

You realize rather abruptly that dating Boothill must have dramatically increased your confidence, because there isn't a doubt in your mind that you look phenomenal. You're a little worried he's going to go into emergency shutdown from overheating once he lays eyes on you.

Well, you'll resuscitate him. You're desperate to see the look on his face.

So, without further delay, you step out of the bathroom, then head straight for the place that you'll certainly be staying for a few hours at the very least.

The bedroom door creaks as you push it open, leaning in the door frame as dramatically and lasciviously as you can manage, and-

Boothill whips around and freezes like a deer in headlights at the exact same moment you do.

He's... He's completely bare, and in the process of wrapping himself in ribbon - bright, sparkling red and silver stands that wind around his chest and his limbs. It's a bit clumsy, a bit crooked, but it's genuinely quite good; you suspect he went through the trouble of looking through a guide of some kind. The ribbon crosses and loops to perfectly emphasize the curves of his body, framing the bulge of his plating and the dips in between. His whole torso looks fucking mouthwatering; he's perfectly framed his chest by a crossing pattern of ribbon that sweeps perfectly down into the dips and seams of his waist, which already looks incredibly grabable by default - but you actually feel your fingers itching, yearning to clench your hands just above those pretty little hips. His thighs are cradled beautifully by the winding stands, looping down around his calves and highlighting the sharp arch of his heels. He was just getting started on his arms, but one of his biceps is already beautifully bound and wrapped.

He breaks the silence. "Sweetheart, you..." he rasps, swallowing audibly. You were so distracted by ogling him that you honestly forgot he was ogling you - and he looks ready to pounce on you. "You're so gorgeous it's gonna put me six feet under."

"Well, you'll be taking me down with you," you mumble, a bit dazed, "because you look absolutely stunning."

Slowly, you lean away from the door, walking toward him like a lion on the prowl, your hungry eyes drinking him in like he's your next meal. You stop just in front of him, so close that you're able to reach up and trace the choker of ribbon that he's wound around his neck, following down to the ridges of his collarbones, into the center of his chest, then even lower, your fingernails running down the plates of his abdomen.

"Pretty boy," you murmur, partly to yourself. When you look into his eyes, you can see that the red dots of his pupils have blown wider than you've ever seen. "Can't believe we both had basically the same idea."

He takes a shaking breath when you slowly trail your fingers down between his legs, and his whole body shivers when you trace the seams of the plates that hide his cock.

"Honey, I'm..." he whispers, practically devouring you with his eyes. "I need you, darlin'. You look... Fudge, sweetheart, ya look so good I can't stand it."

Oh, how he makes your heart flutter.

When you smile, the edges are lethal, and your eyes glitter with mischief. You pout as dramatically as you can manage, but the curl of your lips gives you away.

"What, you aren't going to finish wrapping my gift? I'm wounded, honeybee." Before he can break out of his stupor, you reach down, twisting your fingers in the loose ribbon that hangs from his arm. "I guess I'll have to do it myself, then."

You see the realization in his eyes like a flash of lightning, and you can't resist the urge to hook your fingers beneath the ribbon at his neck, yanking him down into a kiss so hot that it could melt steel. You lick into his mouth feverishly, hungrily, almost desperately, scraping your tongue along his teeth. He moans, sweet and low in his throat, rumbling in his chest; his hands finally drift to rest at your hips, the cold chill of his metal bleeding through the thin material of your lingerie - and fuck, you love how small he makes you feel, how easily he could overpower you at any moment.

"Ah, ah, ah," you croon, pulling away. "Hands behind your back, honey."

The look on his face is positively agonized, and you drink it in like the sweetest ambrosia you've ever tasted. "But- But, sweetheart-"

You press your finger to his lips to shush him. "Gifts don't speak, do they?"

He looks like he wants to pin you to the wall and rip you apart. Instead, he opens his mouth and curls his tongue around your finger, his lips curling mischievously when you shudder. Entranced, you carefully trace his teeth with the pad of your finger, savoring the subtle sting.

"Turn around," you rasp, suddenly feeling parched.

He gives your finger a tiny nibble and your hips a thorough squeeze before obeying, turning his back to you, obediently holding his arms behind his back.

Time to get to work, then.

With a teasingly light touch, you wind the final stands around his arms, looping and crossing and tucking; then, you tie them together, hand to elbow, wrapped all pretty in red. You tie it off with a bow, and by the end, your favorite present of the day is standing there in all his glory.

You admire him for a long, long moment, circling him like a hungry hyena; all the while, he tracks you with his eyes, looking distinctly eager to pin you down and ruin you.

"You're so beautiful it makes me crazy," you mumble, nibbling at your lip.

"Keep talkin' like that, and I'll have to rip right outta this and tear you apart," he rumbles.

You smile, wide and wicked. "You won't, though."

You walk backwards until your knees hit the bed, and you settle into a lounge on the edge of it.

"You're awfully confident, sweetheart," he purrs, slowly prowling toward you like a wolf on the hunt. You watch him with dark eyes, spreading open your thighs so he can stand between them, looming over you in a way that might've felt menacing if he weren't looking at you like he wants to fuck you until you break like glass.

"Because I know you're a good boy," you croon, watching with delight as his jaw clenches, heat flashing in his eyes.

Low and sultry, you purr, "Down on your knees, bee."

Your gut clenches with arousal from just how quickly he obeys; he drops down in front of you, staring up at you like you're the most divine creature he's ever seen.

"See?" you murmur, your lips curling - though your brain is so hot that your lips shake slightly. "Good boy."

God, you think you could come just from the look on his face.

You take a breath, trying to compose yourself, and he takes the opportunity to rasp, "Let me taste ya, baby. Please. Wanna feel you on my tongue so bad I could die."

Well, who are you to deny such a polite request?

You watch his eyes dart to your cunt as you part your thighs just a bit wider, your lower lips visible through the sheer, soaked fabric. You sling one leg around his shoulder, pulling him into your orbit, watching him lean eagerly toward your pussy like a starving man to a banquet. You bury your fingers in his hair, holding him just out of reach, laughing openly at the tiny whine that escapes him.

"You want something, bee?" you say, your eyes shining. "Then take it."

When he looks up at you, you suddenly feel like you're the one on your knees. Without missing a beat, he leans forward, carefully pinching your panties in his teeth. You hold your breath as he drags them down, down, down, exposing your dripping cunt to his greedy eyes.

When he licks his lips, it reminds you very much of a wolf licking its chops before digging into its prey.

"You're gonna have to beg me for mercy before I'm done with ya, doll," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine. "And when I'm done, I'm gonna fill you up, and I'll make ya come until ya cry."

He's right, in the end. He ruins you, over and over and over and over, until you're utterly spent, until you're so come-drunk that all you can do is lay there and take it. He tears the fabric away from your body eagerly, muttering that he'll replace it later; then, he breaks you over his cock, rutting into you like an animal, marking your body with his teeth. He listens to the chorus of moans and whimpers and whines that spill from your lips, never sated, always starved.

And all the while, his arms stay bound behind his back, wrapped and tied neatly. And all the while, you're utterly helpless beneath him, pinned down and drooling.

(Merry Christmas indeed.)

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis

[caen-dy]

𑑛 “PROMISE TO TAKE IT” ﾉ BLADE, DAN HENG, JING YUAN, LUOCHA. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.1k ᯽ rough scenarios, separately. blade — prone bone. doing it raw. creampie ﾉ dan heng is in his dragon form, but not entirely. missionary. implied mating season lol ﾉ jing yuan — size kink. riding him but he’s still in control and a menace ﾉ luocha — “little thing” petname, oddly comforting situationship or one night stand ﾉ rewritten ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

BLADE ﾉ

While the bedroom itself remains an oasis of solace and a delicate space where you can be yourself, never judged by his ruby eyes despite his low huffs and puffs at any of your antics, it is now also a jail for your sobs. Cries disappearing in the supple cotton of the pillow as Blade pounds into you, rough hands gripping your wrists like a rope. Oh no, he will not allow you to push his hips away.

Not after you begged for this just moments ago with that adorable whine of yours.

The dripping slickness saving you from the punishment that is him rutting into you with abandon. His cock stretches your pussy wide, filling you to the brim with every thrust, and you arch your back against him, letting him impale you over and over again on his heavy girth.

He growls, his fingers digging into your soft sides, leaving reddened imprints, as he pulls you towards him. He slams into you roughly, his balls slapping against your overly sensitive clit as he fucks you without mercy.

You squirm in his grasp, trying to break free, but no, his grip on you is firm. He doesn’t want you to move. You’re here just to take care of his needs.

The man above you breathes out, his long black hair falling over his arms and tickling your shoulders. Using your body as he pleases, relentlessly pushing until only his base can’t settle into your cunt. You whimper, your legs shaking as you feel his tip brush against your deepest spot, and he chuckles. He likes how you clench around him, unsure if you want him to leave you or to welcome him deeper — this is how he knows you’re getting close.

And so, Blade leans forward, his breath burning your neck, and bites on your irritated skin. You cry out, your soppy walls throbbing to lure him into your heat, and he grunts as he hears your juices plapping down his thighs. The way you cream all over his cock — awfully erotic — your wetness coating his length, and he picks up his pace, pounding into you with renewed vigour. He wants to cum inside you. To fill you up.

A high-pitched squeal escapes your lips, your silhouette shivering with uncontrollable intensity. The overwhelming sensation becomes too much to bear, and you find yourself unable to endure it any longer; still played with like a pretty doll, pressed to the mattress with all of his weight. Blade groans, his girth pulsing, and he snugs himself deep into you, cumming in thick, hot spurts, your pussy milking him until the very last drop.

You mewl at his treatment, your wrists aching from his bruising grip, and he smirks, his red eyes gleaming. The way you look right now, his favourite image of contained desires. His dear beloved.

He will make it up to you later with sweet kisses and gentle caresses, but for now, he enjoys the sight of his cum oozing out of your well-fucked cunt, dripping onto the bedsheets.

DAN HENG ﾉ

This position isn’t something new, however, and even though the fact is pleasant to think about, you do wonder what caused him to get so bold. Maybe at the sight of you admiring his partially changed form, eyes drinking in the beautiful shimmer of his scales, he understood that you find him so attractive — as always, but now also intrigued by other parts of him that might be different.

His hand traces the lines of your ribs as you inhale at the feeling of him entering deeper — the unfamiliar shape of his cock nesting comfortably against your soft insides — and then he puts some weight on top of you, pressing you further into the pillows, his lips barely touching your own, unsure if he already wants to kiss you.

“Tell me if it hurts you.”

“It’s alright, really. You can… you know, continue…”

“Now I’m more concerned that you seem to like it more than when we’re doing it… gentler.” Surprised at his own talkativeness, there’s a red splash of colour on his cheeks as he bites his lips at the end of the sentence and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You giggle at his comment, but it turns into a needy moan as he moves his hips to rest snugly between your legs.

With your tongue, you slide across his upper lip, capturing it softly and biting on its tenderness, tasting a faint trace of his salty sweat and humming as he shivers, your fingers tangled in his hair, brushing through the ebony black locks, before whispering, “I know you’re holding back. No need to, I trust you.”

“Mmh,” Dan Heng mutters with a shaky breath as his shaft hardens and thickens at your reactions. Your reassuring words have such an impact on him; they're teasing him with this pleading tone of yours, allowing him to mate with you during the times when he gets so incredibly hot in your presence, unable to keep his hands off of you.

His thrusts start slow and measured; however, with each minute passing, he finds himself succumbing more and more to the instinct calling upon him; it is so much different now that you’re within his reach — how you react, how you look at him — everything makes him lose his cool. Soon his lips find your nipple again, teeth grazing sensitive skin until you hiss, yet push yourself towards him, arching your back. The sting of his bite stimulates you to the point where your inner walls spasm, clamping down on him tightly as you almost cry out.

Even the shallowest strokes produce audible squelching noises whenever he loses his rhythm. He’s just as intoxicated by the new sensation. The little details that change in his build now make you two melt in each other’s arms; his cock glides with fervour and carelessness against the spots that usually required precision.

The pleasure is overwhelming, even a bit eerie how accurate at bringing the sweetest of your sobs out. His instincts still force him to grip at your shoulders — you let him do this — to slam harder inside of your pussy. And you can barely take it, but he quickly looks at the side on the clock, and it’s been barely minutes since he started…

JING YUAN ﾉ

He embraces you tightly, wide arms with ease, groping your entire body as you shudder, and let him bring you closer, your back pressed to his soft yet firm chest — allowing his cock to reach deeper, spearing your entrance until your essence seeps out in abundance between your bodies.

Usually, you would expect Jing Yuan to prefer being face to face with you, but also knowing what a menace he can be, there must’ve been something more on his mind. Which catches you by surprise when you notice his fingers circle your clit from the front, sort of caging you between one pleasure and another as you helplessly try to wriggle out of his iron grip.

At that, what you hear is a chuckle — deep like the ocean, sweet like honey, dripping with both love and lust, and making you all fuzzy from within. The waves of immense enjoyment lap at your limbs from all sides, and you gasp out when his palm rubs you so skillfully, with care and adoration.

“No matter which part of you I touch… It’s a pleasure to watch you shake in my arms.” He purrs with a small smile, nibbling at your earlobe and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. You wish to nod but can't, in fear that it’ll only spur him further on to bounce you on his cock and enjoy how you struggle with each thrust. “Does my beloved bird feel good?”

Before you can answer — which you would love to, gathering the strength and courage to wail and sob into his lips as your head falls back on his shoulder — his palm moves up from your bundle of nerves to your tummy, pressing on the soft flesh there. Intently. He knows exactly what to do to get a specific reaction out of you, to make himself moan as you clench abruptly on his girth despite your walls sobbing at the stretch. You feel so full in that moment, choking on your breath at the additional pressure, too occupied with his cock filling your body so wholly.

As he starts to fuck you relentlessly — you cry out, the pitch of your voice higher and higher as you slowly become incapable of maintaining any volume at all — the tiniest sounds, broken huffs of air leaving your mouth; your eyes are glassy with tears, and all you want to do is bury yourself in the pillows and blankets, somehow escape from this prison of bliss. But he holds you close, one hand fondling your breast and the other playing around your lower abdomen, always there where you don’t want him at the moment, just to tease and make you more and more desperate.

A little flick of his thumb against your pearl, a press on your belly, maybe even fingers parting your folds as he drags his fat tip in and out at the perfect angle. It’s enough to throw you over the edge again.

As if your body belonged to him — and he, being the ever caring lover, already knows everything about you, that you enjoy it too much when he manhandles you like this.

LUOCHA ﾉ

The immense pleasure causes your mouth to whine and moan out his name. “Luocha, Luocha…” Is all that can be heard in the room besides muffled gasps and melted noises of naked bodies colliding with each other.

Certainly unpredictable was meeting someone who’s but a travelling merchant, skilled enough to render you putty beyond measure with just a verse of his saccharine voice and touches. You don’t believe him anymore. Though you cannot find an answer to it at the moment whilst your brain just refuses to think of anything else except how well you’re currently getting fucked by that gentleman.

The beauty above you lowers his face close to your own, his treacly lips catching your own with a delicate bite, trailing down your jawline and neck with slow kisses. Lukewarm and wet, like the summer mizzle. Just merely too fast for you to appreciate his features before the golden curtain of his bangs falls across his cheekbones.

“Are you doing well, little thing?” He asks quietly into your collarbone, immediately switching your focus from his words to his cock. With a tender push, he stays still for a moment, pulsing flesh pressing constantly on all your sensitive spots.

“Too well…” you utter with a weak, genuine smile.

He smiles back. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Luocha continues thrusting in and out at a suave pace, pounding into you with a special sense of skill and gentleness. Hauling into your cunt with each drag of his lean hips, his pace is unbothered, almost lenient with the offputting care. As if this meeting is sensible somehow, way above than what it truly is — a transient exchange of lecherousness, nothing more.

With his hands clamped around your waist, lifting you up slightly up from the bed, his swollen length reaches far inside of your aching core at that perfect angle, the tip gliding repeatedly against the sweetest patch of your walls. Drizzles of pre mingle with your essence and souse your puffy petals whenever he retreats from the confines of your insides, a proof of enjoyment that none of you is able to say out loud.

To keep him close — merge into the comfort of feeling someone’s warmth — you wrap yourself around his willowy silhouette, a ribbon made of entangled limbs.

“I wish we could meet again before we part ways.”

“You’re still here with me.” He hums into your ear, once again leaning in to smooch the side of your head, tickling your sweat-sodden hairline. “You should focus on that for now.”

All the overstimulation is taking your breath away, specs of drool sprinkled in the corner of your lips. His palm pets you softly between your legs, extracting another weep from your throat and a wobble of your tense thighs. The sudden impact of his digits rubbing on your clit draws you nearer to your orgasm; and he wishes to see it soon, so he concentrates on your reactions, tongue slightly peeking out from behind his teeth in concentration.

Your whimpers and cries — pure eroticism that makes him consider if it’s even worth to waste the softness of your fevered skin for a meaningless exchange. If one night can turn so satisfying, a pity it would be to say goodbye instead of promising another and another meeting after that. Perhaps…

AUTHOR’S NOTE — most of those are old thirsts that i put into one post with slightly edited past typos. but the hilarious thing is that luocha’s part had to be almost entirely rewritten today — and maybe it’s not visible to others, but i giggled comparing my writing. it’s like a rollercoaster from my perspective hehe

[caen-dy]

hey!! i saw ur recent post about the tulpar crew walking in on reader touching themselves, could u do the same but vice versa?

Ask and ye shall receive!

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. possible second hand embarrassment. masturbation, sexual propositions, the whole shebang. this is a sequel to this post. this one can definitely be read on its own though. lightly implied that reader didn't accept swansea or daisuke's offers in the prequel but that can be left up to interpretation. jimmy's definitely happened though.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

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Curly is just so damn tired. Tired of the reports, faxes, checking the straps in the cargo bay. One of the few downtimes he gets is when he can sit and watch the constellations pass on the common room monitor. The Augira, Constantine and Mitena were all ones that he recognized from this sect of the system, all penned from the eyes of Saturn and further.

Movies are a scarce commodity on the screen, given Jimmy's track record of not wanting to hook the systems up, but it helps him nod off most times.

Working out, though? Working out he can do. Pony Express has given him permission to bring his weights on board, alongside a slew of magazines and audiobooks to listen to.

While Curly doesn't think of himself as a gym rat, those moments to himself are some of the best. Nothing but the burn of iron, the strain of his muscles with each rep. It's methodical work, one that sets his mind at ease and off of reports for once.

Some days, he can get Jimmy in on the action, but most of the time his co-pilot bemoans it. Each time they worked out, the stretches between the next session grew longer.

He's pleased when you agree to attend a few sessions with him. By then, it's almost amicable between you two, as if him walking in you didn't even happen. He's very much acted the part of a dutiful captain, though, he can't help his own eyes from wandering when he sees you stretch. Can't help himself from putting his hands firmly on you when he goes to correct your stance. It doesn't linger, doesn't wander, but goddamn, does he wish he could throw propriety out the window.

It's after one of his solo workout sessions when he chooses another way to unwind. Really, that's the only explanation for it. One that he tells himself anyway, because the strain of propriety is heavy. If he still thinks of you from time to time, if your face crops up in his thoughts while he touches himself, that's his business.

The only places you'd catch him in the act is either in the bathroom or his room.

Curly has always been imaginative, thoughts trailing to roads not travelled, paths that burn out of sight. Of you, sprawled out on the bed, and how he wished he had stayed. How he'd have given anything to hike your legs over his waist and kiss you senseless when he slid against you.

As it always is, every fantasy comes to an abrupt end. Every night that he had dreamed of walking in to find you waiting, you found him. Wifebeater drenched in sweat, towel draped over his shoulders, every line of his well built body on display, hand fisted around his cock.

There's a difference between wishing you'd walk in on him and actually receiving it.

A painful, terse moment lingers between you two, tension so thick he swears he can cut it. His hand completes the motion, wiping from his base to the tip, each breath deep. Despite how uncomfortable he felt (for more than one reason), he also felt more prepared. "Hold on a minute." He'll cover himself, boxers and uniform hiding himself from view.

If you believe you could flee from the room without Curly following you, you're dead wrong. He'll track you down, put this to bed once and for all. He'll catch you, half-dressed in his uniform, blue workwear draped around his waist, hand against the wall. "We have to talk about this."

Regardless if you stay or leave, not talking about it is no longer an option. You've both seen more of each other than was warranted, then what you both signed up for, but dammit he wants this. And he's so tired of shying away from things that he wants. From the person that he wants. All because of some higher-ups sitting cozy back home saying that it's wrong to do. He can't do it anymore, not when he feels like he's on the cusp of something great for once in his life.

"I know that what happened isn't what either of us expected," he'll start, voice low and perhaps far too sensual to be appropriate considered his half-dressed state. "And frankly, we can keep it to ourselves, pretend we never saw it." Biting the bullet is one of the fewest things he's done in life, but this is something that he wants to do. By fractions, Curly leans in closer, his voice entering a low murmur. "But... it doesn't have to be. We could give each other a.. hand, so to speak."

Routine. That's one thing that the Tulpar is good at. Routine. Each meal time, the rigid necessity of clocking in and out on time, even bathing. Pony Express may be a shit machine but it's well oiled, worked raw by the people under it. Delivering the payload is a smooth easy task because they all work on it together.

Part of that routine is shift work. Jimmy, ever the night-owl, works evening and night shift. This makes it so incredibly easy to avoid him if you wanted, especially since he walked in on you tending to yourself.

But he doesn't let you forget it. Since that moment, there's a smoldering heat in his gaze, eyes hooded as he watches you go about the room. Watched as you did your tasks, always standing too close - enough that you can get a whiff of his woodsy cologne, or feel his arm against yours.

He's almost helpful, even when your tasks really don't necessitate the need for another. His hands linger, hot against your uniform, his hips against the back of yours whenever he steadied you, or reached above you. Each word a rumble in his throat.

Except there's never really any change to talk to him about what happened. Not when every moment is tense, fraught with unresolved desires and need. Not when Daisuke or Curly walk into the room, silencing the burning questions and words that haunt your lips. Jimmy seems especially disgruntled about the interruptions, getting almost snappy towards the other crewmembers.

All in all, you rarely have a moment to speak with him. It's the furthest thing from your mind when you step out of the shower, more than eager to collapse face first into bed and sleep the weariness away.

If you're the sort to bring clothes into the washroom to change into, the absence of them is noted fast. No amount of scrounging around turns them up either. At a loss, it's to your sleeping quarters to wrangle up something else to wear.

Except you're very much not alone the second you step into your door. The door swishes behind you but you're effectively grounded, eyes drawn to the man lounging on your bed.

His head is tilted, messy hair falling across his hooded eyes, a dark and smoldering look to them. A slow stretch of a smirk crawls across his face, a pleased look darting into his eyes.

Jimmy is just as bare as the day he was born, an arm languidly thrown over your pillow. A leg bent up, not at all coy about having himself on display. His other arm is resting against his thigh, one hand smoothing along his flushed cock in a slow, slick motion. His fingerstips are all but slathered in precum - or actual cum, as you might suspiciously think when you look at your clothes haphazardly thrown onto the floor, looking sticky.

"There you are. Took you long enough." He breathes out your name, chin tilted upward, something primal lurking deep in his eyes. Jimmy clicks his tongue, ever the disapproving copilot. "You should know better than to keep someone waiting." Despite the curt, wanting tone to his words, he doesn't move towards you. Letting you go to him. Like he knows you will.

"I've been thinking," each word is low and deep, husky in his mouth. Jimmy's hand very much doesn't stop moving, stroking himself as you're rooted to the spot. Whenever you glance down between his thighs, his smirk deepens. "That you owe me for what I did for you."

It's not like you could dance around the topic forever; each touch, every interrupted conversation, it all would have culminated to this. Jimmy waiting for you, eager to put his hands back on you, to feel you tremble and shudder beneath him as he pulls you apart.

The thing was, you realize, it'd be terribly easy to leave him here. To not respond to his advances. The door was to your back and even Jimmy had enough sense not to walk out nude in pursuit of you. It'd be easy to walk to another crewmate's quarters and pilfer clothes. It'd be laughed off, brushed under the rug just as another incident, excused as you being unable to enter your room because of 'technical difficulties'.

The thing is, though, you can clearly remember how his hands felt, the way he moved. How Jimmy watched you with the same intensity now, his eyes a dark promise of a repeat experience, if not more.

You don't really want to refuse such an offer, do you?

Try as Anya might, she can't get the image of you out of her head. The sounds you made, how your hands moved. She'd tried to be civil, though how quickly she averts her gaze and fidgety hands betray how much it affected her. Nerves, she'd try to excuse it. Nothing ever related to you, of course, because that sounds too much like blame. She blames herself for walking in on you masturbating, and blames herself for wishing that she hadn't left.

But by god, did it make her needy and so sexually frustrated. She's found every excuse under the sun to touch you then jerk back, at war with herself. She has to act professional. Doesn't she?

Something about you, seeing you like that, had coiled something burning inside of her. Something hot, that festered low in her gut.

For the most part, she can act professional. Mostly. But she can only get so far from letting her eyes trace your silhouette, from sitting on her leg whenever you talk to her. It's risky business, even riskier when she decides to keeps a few tokens of yours. Things that smell like you, even distantly - papers, a bracelet. Things that you've lent to her before.

It's been a while since she got laid, since she's even been attracted to anyone. But something about you just sets her on fire, burning with want and need. She needs you like she's never needed anyone before.

Realistically, Anya knows it's because of the forbidden nature; because of the close proximity day in and day out, but there's something so tantalizingly beautiful about it too. She's a sucker for it.

One of her favourite places to get off is in the medbay; she can lock herself in it - but she doesn't. Because it's so much more tantalizing when she thinks about you walking in. When she thinks about pressing you against the desk and using her medical expertise on you. She wants to hear you - taste you - feel you. Is that too much to ask for?

That's exactly where you catch her. Her breath coming out in hot breaths, eyes shut tightly, uniform pulled open. It'd be so easy to mistake it for something else, such as the room being hot - if it weren't for where her hands were.

One has all but ridden up her shirt, rolling the peak of her breast between her fingers. The zipper has gone all the way down to her waist, one hand curled tightly in her underwear, motions jerky as she fingers herself.

Every inch of her wishes that it was you, your fingers working her over, touching her clit and prodding at her walls. She feels so close, having edged herself for a bit until you came in.

It was just to ask her her input on supper, or for a nonsensical question that very well could have waited for another moment.

The door swishes shut behind you and her eyes flutter, dark as she looks up at you, flush all but crawling up her neck.

Seeing how you look at her - how you came to look for her- needing her for something, a question halfway on your lips - and it's her undoing. She moans your name, guttural and hoarse, hips jerking, dripping over her knuckles. "Wait-" Singlehandedly one of the better orgasms she's had, better than when she pined endlessly.

When her senses come back, Anya is breathless and shaken - and you're long gone.

She's not letting you go this time. Not when a new, burning question lodges inside her. Did you like what you see? Did you wish you weren't there?

Anya approaches your door at night, knocking crisply and when you grant entrance, she stands there, the atmosphere almost palpably awkward. She takes a few steps closer, feeling flighty and desperate, eyes searching your face, whispering your name.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispers, voice low in the room, nerves biting at her throat. She can't not know anymore. "But I'm... glad that you did."

"Is this.. tension between us all in my head, or, do you want me too?"

It's one thing after the next. Couplings came loose, Daisuke's homework is not up to par, the lightbulbs need to be changed but no one seems capable of doing it. It all amounts to a sort of frustration winding up in him. Swansea has enough grace not to lash out at anyone, but it's there, palpable in his tone.

By some saving grace, you're willing to help him out with his work. Passing over screwdrivers and wrenches, new copper wire as he needs it. Swansea has noticed that you're attentive and eager like that; willing to help. Sometimes, he really wished you were his intern instead of Daisuke, not that he blames the kid.

He really needs a damn beer.

Wanking out his frustrations as a teenager and young adult had really suited him just fine, and with each passing day, it becomes a far more likely possibility.

It surely does not help when every little moment with you feels charged. Knuckles brushing when you supply him with mechanic tools, or when his arm brushed against your thigh as he steadied the ladder for you.

Swansea finds his gaze lingering.. on how your uniform bunches, the sway of your walk, the excited chatter to your tone when you've launched into some spiel or other. Each look he gives you is in quiet contemplation, though perhaps not as obvious as to why.

He's long since brushed off your curious questions.

It's when Anya outright slipped and fell over an oil spill that Swansea called it quits. There's only so many small annoyances that he could take before it became a hazardous snowstorm.

After it's suitably cleaned, he tried to find a place to tuck himself away. Keyword: tried. Something else always needed to be fixed, and he had enough years under his belt to know the ins and out of everything. Leaky faucet? Hold his glass. Vaccuum given up? He's got it. Curly, goddammit, he has it.

It's so grueling to find a moment of peace, so he takes what he can. That just so happened to be in the utility room, frustrations to a boiling point.

He knows his body, knows just the right way to stroke himself, the perfect amount of pressure. Learned it long since his youthful days, since his amicable divorce from his wife. Sure, it might feel mechanic at a certain point, but to him, it was a small reprieve. A getaway that only booze came close to.

Foreskin pulled back, his head is tucked low, eyes heavily lidded, fingertips pressing under the tip of the head just like he likes.

Swansea has himself sticky with precum when the utility door rattles and open. "Swansea, I found your keys-"

His eyes track up, eyebrows raised. Whatever hasty attempt you may have made, it's blocked by the aging mechanics of the utility door. It's from an older rig, one that still uses keys instead of the security bars that the medbay and cockpit use. Which means it's faulty as shit.

He sighs, head tipped back, eyes still on you. "That's on me for not leaving a sock out there," he grumbles, voice gruff and husky. A reference to how he told you to ward off people when he caught you masturbating earlier.

Moving his hand from his cock, his gaze is surprisingly steady, arm draped against the back of the chair. "Listen, kid, I won't say shit about this if you don't. Keep it jammed tight better than a olive jar when making margaritas. But." He rolls his neck, feeling a satisfying crack run through him. "I can show ya a few things that the ole cap' or other men won't, if yer interested."

Daisuke has been, for lack of a better word, edgy around you. Hovering, then trying to create distance. He can't seem to decide how to act around you. Not when he's seen you that way, pleasuring yourself. When he wishes you'd involve him.

He's seen plenty of naked people before, got hard over them, but wow, did you take it to the next level. Even how you tilt your head or roll up your sleeves has him in an outright tizzy, straining hard in his pants.

Daisuke often has to excuse himself from your presence. Ignoring Swansea's rolling eyes and knowing scoffs is easy; ignoring you is harder.

It's during one of those mundane tasks, where you're prattling about your work to the others, his eyes glued to your form, absorbing every word that he can't take it anymore. Excusing himself, he pops right out of the room, awkwardly striking towards his bunk.

But of course that is the exact moment you decide you need to return his gameboy - or comic, or whatever he had lent you a few weeks prior.

Daisuke is completely in the groove, pants folded down, back propped to the wall, knees folded and lips parted with each heavy breath. He's always been loud, noisy and boisterous. But his saving (and falling) grace is that he's also often playing movies in his room, and what muffled sounds you may hear from the other side of the door is easily chalked up to that. (Or perhaps, you knew.)

You catch him like that, hand fisted around his lean cock, shirt ridden up over his stomach, his movements sharp and jerky. It's bad enough that you walk in on him like this - but another to hear Daisuke rattle out your name, the sound breathy and full of want coming from his lips.

He's a poor, flushed mess, eyes wide when he looks up at you - and it's so plainly obvious to the both of you that he didn't call out because he heard you come in.

"I- I can totally explain." Except he really can't, can he, when he has his dick in his hand, just moaning your name literally seconds ago.

Any attempt to backtrack out of the room will be greeted with a hasty, "Oh my god, no, pleasewait!" As he all but tries to leap from his bed, tripping over his pants in his haste to get to you. Daisuke is nothing but determined and will try to talk to you about this, even if you manage to successfully flee.

Choosing to stay has him utterly red-faced, almost ashamed as he rambles through a tirade of, "Okay, so," punctuated by repeated, stumbled phrases before he manages to get out, "So, me calling out your name just now - total accident. Unlessyoudon'twantittobe? But, like, I definitely understand if you want to leave but I'dreallyratheryoustaybecause I really can't stop thinking about you and, - oh hey, is that my gameboy? You can just set it-- that's not important! I just. Really don't want you to leave. Please."

[caen-dy]

⭒ WHERE THEY PUT THEIR HANDS, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

fem reader x wriothesley, diluc, ayato, alhaitham + neuvillette ( separate ) ; mating press in wrio’s. some slight teasing. petnames used; my dear, sweetheart. i was supposed to add childe but… wc, all below 1k. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.

⭒ WRIOTHESLEY

Wriothesley’s strength always became quite evident with how easily he was able to fold you. Until you’re feeling the heavy press of his thighs up against your ass as he sinks his heavy cock into you, and the mere weight of him almost knocks the air out of your lungs with every wet connection of his hips.

It’s intoxicating, suffocatingly arousing and you feel like you can barely breathe with how deep it feels like he reaches. With little to no effort at that as he keeps you spread out for him, large hands squeezing into the backs of your legs as your thighs press even closer to your own chest.

“Yeah? You like that?” Wriothesley purrs as he gives you a lidded look, fucking you into the pillows beneath you with a breathless croon of a laugh as he tilts his head down at you, “Sure feels like it.”

His fingers give your thighs another squeeze and it makes you quake beneath him, as do your lungs with your next inhale as you gasp from the pleasure that he’s able to bring from you. Being able to look at him like this only makes you feel even better; scarred body almost curling over yours completely— salt and pepper hair framing his pleasure-stricken features as he claps his hips into yours. And it makes your lips part to moan again as you watch him. “I-It’s so deep! Can’t—”

But Wriothesley can barely hold back himself with how tightly you’re squeezing around him, snug and warm until he can barely draw his hips back and it makes him lean more of his weight into your folded, pliant body to keep his pace. “Oh? Yet you seem to be taking it quite nicely. I might even think you were made for this, hm?”

Your lips part to moan, desperately trying to answer him, but you can barely breathe— nevermind think. Your words being reduced to quick punched out gasp of air as your lashes flutter. “W-wrio, ple—ah! please..” And you can tell he loves it when he gives you a smirk, teasing you more despite your already fucked out state.

“Oh, I didn’t quite catch that, you’re gonna have to speak up for me.”

Even then, every sinful little twitch of your walls only draws him nearer and his large hands squeeze so tightly into your skin you’re sure it’ll leave marks that he’ll massage gently at later. But for now, he’s got you pinned into the mattress beneath him and fucking you into it so relentlessly you can barely focus on anything else that isn’t the drag of his cock along your sensitive spots.

Everything about the way Wriothesley touches you is intoxicating, the ease in which he tries his best to move you carefully despite the want that consumes and fogs his mind. It makes you feel terribly warm beneath him and only serves to make you even wetter as he continues his dizzying pace, driving your head back into the pillows as you try hard to arch into more of his pleasure.

But his hands are squeezing into the backs of your thighs, and the tight fold of your body only drives you closer to your own orgasm as you try to meet each thrust with a needy, little half ones of your own. Every twitch only serves to grind your clit up against his pelvis and the mere desperate look of you beneath him, eager to take more of his cock makes his jaw clench as he hisses through his teeth.

“You can take more, right? Oh, I know you’re up to it.” The usual confidence in Wriothesley’s words waver, as does his pace stutter with the next deep kiss of his cock and his thigh fit snug and tight against your ass as he pushes into the hilt.

It makes your toes curl from where they hang in the air, and it’s almost dizzying how quickly you nod at his question. “Yeah? That’s my girl.”

He grunts again with the next languid roll of his hips into yours, pressing more of his fat cock into the squeeze of your walls and grinding mindlessly along the sweet spots that await him there. It makes your hands twist into the bedsheets at your side to keep you grounded, to stop you from shaking and drooling beneath him as he reaches deeper and you lie there just to take it.

But Wriothesley loves you like this, when he’s fucking you into the sheets of your shared bed as he folds you in half — keeping you in place with his own unparalleled strength, and from this angle he can watch how beautifully you take his cock.

The ice blue of his gaze glances down to watch the way it sinks into your pussy and it makes him smirk when he pulls back to see the way your slick coats his shaft — until he’s soaked and glistening with your arousal. It makes him whistle lowly in admiration despite the way his own arms are now seeming to shake with pleasure.

“And here I was thinking you’d had enough already. Seems like we’re just getting started, huh?”

⭒ DILUC

Diluc’s love for you was always evident in the way he caressed your body, much like he is now as he lets you rest beneath him on the bed while his huge stature presses its way between your thighs. He loved you like this, being able to take in every pretty expression you make beneath him, and your beauty only serves as a means to pull him closer, deeper.

You gasp, and it makes him groan as he sinks his cock carefully up inside of you. You’re so warm as you wrap around him and the give of his body seems to spread you even wider as you take more. It makes your eyes roll back with the next stutter of his hips and you feel his hand graze down the expanse of your forearm before he’s intertwining it with your own, squeezing you tight while the other works to pull your hips closer to his.

All while your back arches and shudders against his sheets.

Though Diluc isn’t faring much better himself, “A-archons— I can barely hold myself back.” His teeth grit, and the sound makes your lashes flutter as he gives you a lidded look.

His cock feels like it sinks into you forever; deliciously thick, curved upwards and warm as it glides so sinfully past the sweet spots inside of you. And the waver of your lover’s tone only seems to make you feel all the more sensitive to it as you feel your whole body twitch, pussy tightening harder around him the deeper he does.

You feel Diluc lean closer as he smears a kiss along your cheek, meaning to soothe you as he feels the way your walls stretch and squeeze — and it truly does allow you to relax more as he pushes more of his heavy cock into your willing cunt. You can feel the way it makes him smile into his next kiss against your skin,

“Heh, it’s been a while since someone has tested my self control this much.” Another steady rock of his hips and it makes your body clap, your intertwined hands squeezing tight as he offers you another low groan. You feel far too good for him to be able to hold back his reactions, so he grumbles. “Not that I’m one to complain, Sweetheart. You just feel t-too good is all.”

Diluc swallows loudly with your next pleased whimper and he pulls away from his place over you to satiate you with a quick peck against your lips. But then his hips are pressing snug and tight against yours and he’s bottoming out so deep it almost hurts, making you shake beneath him as you gasp at the stretch.

“Are you okay?” He grunts, only a few mere seconds later, though trying desperately to steady the needy waver his voice threatens to take as you squeeze around him. The hug of your pussy makes his abdomen tighten as he works his hips back gently, pressing them back into you a few moments later as your feet curl into the sheets.

Diluc squeezes your intertwined hands when you don’t reply, urging you for an answer before he’s rolling his hips into you again with another low whimper.

“Y-yes, I’m okay! It’s just so good!” You eventually reply, and he can’t help but offer you a soft smile as he feels his lips twitch at the broken, sweet sound of your voice. It wavers from the pleasure but he thinks it’s still quite beautiful as he allows himself to look at you again.

The mess of Diluc’s hair is still unruly from your hands as his bangs fall over his eyes, but he still manages to give you a soft, affectionate look from beneath them as his hand continues to hold yours tightly.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. That’s all i could ask for afterall.” His voice rasps as he curls himself over you, lips pressing smeared kisses along your features with his first real thrust of his cock into you. And it makes your lips part when your body claps against his — feeling the bed shake beneath the weight of his strength, while your hands squeeze tight at the pleasure that clouds your mind almost instantly.

Beautiful, Diluc grumbles into the press of your cheek, and you feel his praise drip through your rocking body and down your spine as it he ignites something in you.

He makes your insides curl and ache as your lips drop open to moan his name and his own ragged breathing only urges you to pull him closer so he can kiss you, pinning your intertwined hands above your head as he sends you a look that’s a little dazed, a little hungry.

“Do trust that I’ll take care of you. It is only right that I repay you for allowing me such pleasure.”

⭒ AYATO

Ayato would always feel utterly consumed by you whenever you would take him like this. You’re currently pressed into his lap and bouncing your slick cunt along the length of him, your pretty hands are tangled in his hair and you’re hugging him close as you steady yourself with the hug of his palms. He was truly enamoured by you in this state, gazing up at you in admiration for your intoxicating efforts.

The Commissioner himself is flushed to his chest, a telltale sign that those very efforts are not in vain as his palms smooth their way along your body, and your head drops back as you arch into his touch so deliciously. So his fingers continue to trail higher, between the valley of your breasts before their tracing along your collarbones and throat, and ultimately resting against your jawline before they’re urging you to look at him again.

“Allow me to see how beautiful you look. Don’t hide from me.” Ayato grins up at you, softly despite the teasing undercurrent that his words carry and it makes you shudder atop his lap before your walls squeeze.

He knows you’re so lost in it already, your pretty lips part to moan every time you take him to the base and every thrust is only made to feel even deeper as he grinds himself up into you. He can’t help but eagerly meet your movements with practiced precision of his own, especially when it allows him to take in your lewd expressions while your thighs squeeze and shake.

You feel Ayato’s fingers twitch against your jaw with his next particularly sharp thrust, and the movement makes his cock throb from where he presses it deep inside of you. The sweet, saccharine moan that the sudden pleasure pulls from you makes him breathe out a laugh.

“Does that feel good for you?” He mutters between breathes as his free hand wraps around your waist to pull you closer, and his fingers around your jaw serve to hold your gaze with his as they tighten. You’re rocking into eachother, taking in each others expressions with every slow movement and the intimacy that rests between where you both take a breath makes you feel dizzy.

Ayato was consuming, which is why you can only offer him a soft squeak and a nod at his question. A response that you know he’s never going to settle for as you feel his fingers around your jawline squeeze,

“Hm? I can’t quite hear you, my dear. Do speak up for me.” But he knows you cant offer him the response he wants when he deliberately follows up his ask with another deep press of his cock against the sweet spots inside of you. It makes you shudder and arch into him as your hands reach to scratch along his shoulders, leaving red marks along his pale skin in your wake.

But that in itself only serves to make Ayato even more amused.

He knows your mind is too clouded with how well he’s fucking you, so to combat that — he slows his pace to a grind, which in turn — urges you to meet it as a soft whine falls from your lips at the switch. But that sweet sound only draws his own closer as his mouth reaches up to ghost yours, his grip on your jaw keeping you in place delicately as he teases you with a low hum.

The proximity makes your eyes close, pressing yourself chest to chest with Ayato in the hopes he’ll kiss you as you ride his cock. But before he can indulge you, he instead pulls away at the next second — leaving you to grind yourself needily along his cock with a wet look that only seems to beg for him to finally just kiss you.

But because the Commissioner loves when you’re like this, his lidded gaze seems to glow at that expression you’re wearing. The tears that seem to glisten in your eyes and the way your lips are almost twisted into a soft pout. Yes, he could indulge you with a kiss for all your hard work, especially when your pussy is fitting around him so warm and snug.

But Ayato doesn’t think he’s quite done with you yet, so instead — he lets his fingers reach up to pinch at your cheeks. Chuckling when your lips jut out and he offers you another slow grind of his cock until you’re whimpering.

“Oh, but where are your manners? You know I love when you beg.”

⭒ ALHAITHAM

It was as intoxicating as it was infuriating, the way that Alhaitham could work your body so easily, even with just the slightest touch. He knew exactly where you needed him, which spots to squeeze beneath his fingertips or roll beneath the pad of his thumb— and in such a way, with a perfect pace that made you keen and twitch beneath him. It almost made you think that your body responded more to him than it did yourself.

Now, would be a perfect example of that as his cock presses deep into your walls, and he bathes you in that exact pleasure that only he can give as you shudder beneath him. He’s wearing one of his more handsome, subtle smiles on his face, but the look he gives you is still as smug as ever despite how mused he may appear.

Because despite Alhaitham’s exterior, he wasn’t as immune to the pleasure as he let on himself.

His touch begins gentle at first when his fingers trace between the intimate skin of your thighs, and he takes his time as he lets them press along the skin there— gaze narrowing when your thighs seem to spread out even more. It’s almost an instinctive movement, but it serves to let him bury his cock deeper at the same time before he reaches where he needs to be.

Alhaitham’s breathing hitches slightly with the first swipe of his thumb along your puffy clit, and the way you seem to squeeze tighter almost makes his pace stutter. But he watches the way your hips twist and jolt at the touch and he can’t help but find himself exhaling a quick chuckle to himself.

“Oh? So it’s here you want me to touch you?” His words drawl teasingly, but you’re already mindless beneath him— barely able to respond when he presses down harder, matching his touch perfectly with every deep press of his cock along your sweet spots. And it’s embarrassingly quick the way the flames of your orgasm lick at the base of your spine, “You simply had to ask.”

Alhaitham’s gaze almost glows as he takes in the way your body is responding to him, he wants you to be a mess beneath him. The confidence in which he works you now was intoxicating, he’d learned quickly from your first intimate experience together and he’d only mapped out your body from there.

Your likes and dislikes were like second nature to him now, and knowing that he’s memorised every part of it only serves to make you even wetter when his next thrust squelches lewdly, loudly until you feel your body flush.

But because Alhaitham’s not quite done playing with you yet, he lets his pace slow to an almost languid grind and he lets his touch on your clit ease deliberately as he watches the way you try to follow for more friction. Your lips babble out his name, followed by an adorable “You’re being mean.” with a little wet look from beneath him. And if your mind wasn’t so full of cotton, you’d feel the way it makes him throb.

But the man over you knows he’s actually being quite the opposite, were he to state the facts — he’s simply prolonging your pleasure because he knows he wouldn’t have lasted much longer if you continued to squeeze around him so perfectly at his previous pace.

But you’re far too fucked out to realise that yourself. So Alhaitham takes the opportunity presented to him,

“Oh? Have I ever been so mean? One might even argue that I spoil you.” His voice takes a familiar drawl, vibrating low as his gaze trails over your body and his fingers pet through the slick folds of your pussy before he shakily exhales. And it’s with his next breath that he’s deliberately angling himself against the spots he knows you want him most, because although he quite enjoyed teasing you at the best of times — he wasn’t immune to giving you everything he knows you needed either.

“Please keep d-doing that, Haitham, go faster!” That pretty look you seemed to weaponise could be quite bothersome for Alhaitham at the best of times.

But because he’s still him, he allows his next thrust to be softer — like he’s proving a point. “Do you really think I’d do that?” It’s smug and so fucking sexy when he presses you into the soft pillows of his bed beneath you, and his hips seem to move almost in harmony with your own.

He knows what it is you really need afterall.

So Alhaitham’s fingers continue to circle the sensitive bud of your clit lightly, and the touch is so gentle but so precise it makes your walls shake along the sensitive glands of his cock. Until he’s giving you a lidded, sharp look from beneath his bangs and he’s leaning even closer to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes closed.

But it makes him chuckle to himself at the idea that you seem to have as much control over his bodies pleasure as he does yours. And you’re none the wiser either. So he gives you a look before he’s offering you another deep grind of his cock and it makes your lips huff out another breath of his name when his thumb bares down on your clit eagerly.

Alhaitham swallows, and then he looks at you before smirking to himself, “I mean right now for instance, c-could… could you ask for more? It seems to me you’re already enjoying yourself.”

⭒ NEUVILLETTE

It was obvious in the way Neuvillette’s hands roamed around your body that he was completely enamoured by you. His large palms grope and knead at your hips as he presses himself deeper into the walls of your pussy, and every deep thrust of his cock seems to pull even sweeter, pleased little sounds from your lips to accompany each intimate touch.

Every swipe of his fingertips makes you want to melt into the mattress beneath you as he fucks you, and when you look up to give him the Iudex a pretty look, it only seems to urge him to push himself closer. So he offers you an adoring sort of blink before he’s taking a slow handful of your breast and humming lowly at the way your skin gives to his palms.

“You are quite magnificent, my dear. Our moments like this have become some of my favourite.” Neuvillette breathes, though his tone seems much more unsteady than normal when he rocks himself into you. The waver of his voice only serves to make you squeeze even tighter around him as he sucks in a wrecked breath.

The hug of your walls urges him to lean down over you, pressing kisses along the dip of your shoulder as a means of appreciation but the new angle only helps him grind more of his cock down into you aswell. The stretch makes you shake, arching even more into the hug of his palms and he accepts more of your body as he curls himself over you almost completely.

Neuvillette offers you another squeeze of his palm as his fingers swipe lightly across the hardened skin of your nipple, stroking back and forth until they pebble sensitively and he closes his thumb and forefinger around it to pull softly.

The pleasure makes you gasp, walls trembling around the give of his cock and your reaction makes him breathe out a shameless whine of his own in appreciation.

“You still appear to be quite sensitive. This must feel quite good for you.” Neuvillette’s words almost purr as he squeezes his hands around your breast again and you muse your hair against the pillows beneath you as you writhe and shake. The pleasure he’s giving you feels too great; the stretch of his cock and the soft touch of his hands, it’s all so terribly intoxicating.

You feel like you can barely breathe as you try hard not to let your eyes roll back.

But those very reactions are what draws Neuvillette to go even more. He couldn’t get enough of you— in any sense but especially not now. You’re spread out beneath him and baring all as he fucks you, your fingers have left pretty red marks along the ivory skin of his broad back and he’s working you open with every languid roll of his hips.

His cock is heavy, throbbing from where he’s grinding it down to sink between your warm folds and in all of his years, he’s never felt pleasure like the sensation you’re able to pull from.

Neuvillette rolls your nipple between his fingers again and he takes in the way you gnaw down on your lower lip, trying to suppress the needy, broken sob that’s threatening to break from them. And he gives you a look before he’s following it with another thrust, then another twist of the bud between his hands.

“You’ll have to forgive me for making a spectacle of you like this. It’s just I… I find your reactions to be quite beautiful is all.” His words are honest, and his movements become somewhat softer with every roll of his hips. Like he’s emphasising his apology for toying with your sensitivity, all while making heat burst and warm along your thighs with how good those very experiments are making you feel.

He can feel it. Neuvillette works you open like he’s studied you, and that’s why you can’t help but spread your thighs even wider in the hopes of taking more of him.

But the thing is he has studied you. He’s committed every pretty expression and mewl you make to memory as his fingers twist around your nipples again, flicking over the buds lightly until he feels you shudder beneath him.

And it’s because of that that he knows how sensitive they are, how much you love when he touches and fondles your breasts as he fucks you.

Your pussy twitches and squeezes around Neuvillette’s cock in time with his movements, and your breathing begins to come in short pants of his name as he buries more of himself into you. Until you can feel him lean in again to suckle needily along the sensitive spots in your throat, and he’s suddenly taking a pace that makes his body clap against yours. Still, his voice remains soft when he speaks to you.

“I hope you won’t mind if I continue?”

star divider by @ saradika-graphics

[caen-dy]

That time when you were being all over Nanami and sitting on his lap as you went on about some stupid gossip, what you failed to notice was a subtle discomfort, underneath you. Like something hard.. well maybe that was his wallet or belt as you slightly changed your position causing a reaction from Nanami. You noticed it, when you stopped whatever you were saying and accidentally seemed to grind on his lap, the way he quickly looked away as a slight grunt left from him. Then it hit you, Oh.. he is hard.

"and? what happened then, sweetheart?" He urged you to continue the story like nothing was happening. You liked how he was hiding it pretty well. You threw your hands around his neck as you grinded forward on his lap, his lips turning into a thin line at your silence "hmm.. what was i saying again? Remind me?" Of course he couldn't spell it out if you are grinding onto him like that. "When— uh, your friend—" he struggled to respond as one of his hands came to rest on your hips now. "Yes, my friend?" You urged him to go on. "Hah.. goddamn it, baby" he said in a desperate plea.

"What was that?" You asked like you didn't know, completely unaware. "Darlin' im hard," he said pulling you close, his hardness nudging against your clothed core. "Is that right?" Before you could even finish, you were met with a impatient and passionate kiss.

[caen-dy]

TIME TRAVEL PART 2

Part 01, Part 02

I have a script for how this, I can't waittt to post the next part!!

Jimmy is going to be fun(terrifying) to work with. Also, imagine having to try to talk after been stuck without lips, face, hearing and everything for months-

AND having to deal with the fact that you fucked up bad

Anyway I'll go back to drawing the next part, bye

[caen-dy]

Men who talk a certain way.

They carry themselves with elegance, talk with a poised cadence unique to them. They hold themselves upright and have an air of superiority. A cunning look, signature smirk, firm hand; these are staples of their character, they know how to strike a deal. Whether for their people or their own gain, they intimidate those to gain an advantage no matter how many exploits gone through or people exploited.

People either love or fear them.

They’re important.

It’s no surprise that they sit at the centre of the table at a meeting, commanding attention. All eyes are on them, gripping their every word. Prompt nods and murmurs of agreements follow. They’re smart too. Incredible wit and perceptiveness as they continuously glance at everyone, especially you.

Fuck, and they’re hot too.

It makes your blood run hot. Jolts shoot throughout your body and you avert your gaze. It was stupid to you to be losing your cool for a man who felt indifferent about your existence. Maybe that isn’t the right word. 

Sometimes, you would question whether he hated you. Whenever you needed a pen, your hands brushed against one another for a second and he would quickly pull back as if being stung by a bee with a slight scowl forming on his face. If the piles of paper you needed to finish took too long, he would be adamant you finish for the night, which is all fine and dandy if he wasn’t looking for help from others to complete your work. He even reprimanded you, talked to you in that familiar stern tone once for not having your priorities in place when a stranger came up to you in a flirtatious manner as if you could control that. 

He pissed you off. 

Why couldn’t he care about you like a normal person?

However, you were wrong about all of it. He cared too much.

When your fingers grazed him he was ridden with guilt, these were the same hands he would think about at night. Imagine tracing the sharp edges of his skin. He would shut his eyes and throw his head back, replacing his hands with your own. Try to commit the soft feel of yours to his. Would you go slow or fast? He wondered. How would you hold him? Would you let him make a mess? His thoughts would trail on and on questioning your grip, your face, w

hat you would say.

So, it was no surprise when he saw you working yourself to exhaustion that he wanted you to rest. That was his duty after all. Only he could do that. The eyes that he desperately wanted to see glazed over with a lust filled haze needed to be well rested first. That way, he could slowly see them become drunk for him, turning red, bloodshot from just how well he would treat you.

And it was especially no surprise that when another person had the audacity to want you too, he had to stop them. Sure, you didn’t deserve the scolding but he would make you feel so much better later on. He just had to be patient.

Had to keep his tone steady and tame. Pretend to treat you just like everyone else. Even if you thought he hated you. He could fuck you like that too if you wanted. He would give you anything you wanted. However, you didn’t deserve to know how depraved he truly was.

There was a thought that lingered at the forefront of his mind. If you found out just how he imagined you, would you leave? He figured you might feel disgusted, a man of his caliber, his power, wanting to succumb to you. And so he continued to talk. Continued to keep his tone steady. Keep his tone tame. 

He would keep himself in line; refined. Because if you found out how he was imagining you, perhaps then this man would truly feel fear.

fantasising about...

Sylus, NEUVILLETTE, Jing Yuan, Welt, Sunday, DAN HENG, Artem, Zhongli!, Gepard, Alhaitham?, Cyno ...and anyone else you're thinking of

Hope you liked this! Inspired by the song 'Talk' by Hozier. Specifically the line, "So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you." Please give it a listen! It was in my Spotify Top 5 it's so good and captures the vibe I was trying to go for with this. Sorry for the yap. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

[caen-dy]

The first time you give Alhaitham a handjob he’s almost deathly quiet. Barely utters a sound, albeit from a heavy breath or two and the way his hand seems to squeeze into your shoulder.

You bring it up a few days after, albiet fuelled mostly by your own insecurity and you can’t help but feel consumed by the idea that maybe he’s just too embarrassed to say that he didn’t enjoy himself, and you’re too embarrassed to hear that exact same thing.

But, you can’t go another day with letting it eat you up inside so eventually, against your better judgement you end up blurting it out mid make-out session, and the look that Alhaitham gives you is as hard to read as ever. Aside from the raise of his brow.

But then he exhales out a sort of chuckle, and you half prepare yourself for some bad news before he ultimately replies. As neutral as ever. “Interesting. Though that’s quite the assumption.” And he shrugs, “Well, to put it simply, I didn’t think that would be something you would be so interested in hearing. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

But just to make sure Alhaitham’s not just trying to make you feel better, you use a little more effort this time round as you tug on his cock now. Which is why his hands are twisting into the fabric of your shirt and despite the way he’s biting down hard on his lower lip, it’s quite intoxicating the way he’s now incapable of hiding waver of his tone. Every breath smothered beneath low groans that seem to be timed perfectly with every twist of your wrist.

The sounds are getting to even you as you fidget, thighs rubbing together and you can feel his gaze latch onto that movement when you turn to give him a smug little grin. It’s one that makes his hips shake when you accompany it with a squeeze of your fingers around the shaft of his cock, and he grinds out another groan— chuckling, almost. Well, trying to.

“Hah, you seem to be quite p-pleased with yourself this time around.”

[caen-dy]

genshin man (your choice ofc) overstimulating reader ☺️🫵🏻☺️🫵🏻

・✶ ｡ including — alhaitham, kinich ☁︎ synopsis — he likes overstimulating his darling, he loves it, even <3

warnings — overstimulation, sweet talks with alhaitham <3 teasing genshin man, kinich is a little mean, fem! reader

— alhaitham

"if you could only see yourself the way i see you," alhaitham murmurs as his lips brush against your ear ever so tenderly— and his voice was like a soothing balm hovering on top of you, grounding you in the present moment even as your senses spiraled into near insanity.

with purpose, his hands move and explore your writhing skin, discovering every sensitive spot on your body as his hips thrust with vigor, the messy, wet squelches of your cunt making you arch your back as the bubble inside your belly threatens to pop.

with alhaitham, there was no rush in his actions, only a deep, profound care to give you the most intense pleasure until your body borders on overstimulation and love. his fingertips trace delicate patterns over your skin as his eyes, filled with an intense yet tender focus, watch how your legs shake and quiver around his narrow waist.

you continue to arch into his touch and whimper when you catch his lips curve into a small smile each time your pussy squeezes him, his gaze never leaving your face. he wanted, no, needed to see every expression you made, every moment of pleasure he could draw from you until you lose control of yourself, the feeling of his erection pressing into you over and over being unlike anything profanely possible.

"just let go for me, yeah?" he whispers, his voice like a husky command that sent a cold shiver down the entirety of your spine, "i'm with you, here with you," as he continues to grind his cock into you, the lazy, yet skilled drags of his shaft rushing around your spongey walls as you mewl out his name.

there was nothing you could do other than cling to his shoulders, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the sensations were beginning to turn overwhelming, each touch, each kiss, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you and feeling like a mountain was tied against your frame, looming and threatening to crush you.

his hands moved lower to find your swollen clit to pinch and press into the little pearl before rubbing you fiercely as it that had you crying out in deep pleasure until you just couldn't take it anymore.

your body felt so tense, the pleasure building to its pinnacle as you messily released all over his cock, intense waves of pleasure bursting through you as you simply shattered, your body convulsing in his strong arms as alhaitham held you through it all, his merciless touch on your clit never faltering as he rubbed you through your blissful orgasm.

— kinich

kinich's eyes sparkled with mischief as he traced a finger down your arm, his touch light and teasing while his grin was somewhat playful, quite menacing as well if being honest, yet promising a night of unrestrained pleasure until he could see you fall apart for him.

"you look so tempting to me, i can't wait to feel you over and over and over," the man purred, his voice resembling a seductive whisper as you leaned into his warmth, his breath hot against your neck as he kissed a trail down to your collarbone before biting into your flesh.

it's obvious he knows exactly how to drive you wild, how to make you beg and cry.

in a matter of seconds, you tremble underneath him, toes curled and your hips grinding up so your clit could rub into his pelvis as kinich chuckled at your eagerness, finding it rather amusing as it fueled the ego inside of him, "patience, ever heard of it, hmm?" he teases as his lips brush against your ear, "don't you realize we have all night?"

his fingers induce electric bolts into you as they danced over your skin with ease, never lingering in one spot for too long as he found it to be the most pleasurable if he was able to tease you until you would literally break— because you see, each touch was a tantalizing promise of the pleasure to come, leaving you breathless and yearning for more and kinich utterly adored that.

"how odd, you're so sensitive there," he remarks with a giggle as he messily thrusts into your cunt before grinding his hips down whenever he was fully inside, "i wonder why," as his voice turned in a husky whisper, his eyes meeting yours in a trice, a spark of amusement and desire in their depths and taking you by surprise.

"ugh, i love seeing you like this, so vulnerable,"

kinich's grin was wicked, insane, his eyes never leaving yours as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. "more, come on," he whispers, "i want to see you fall apart for me, you think you can do that?"

and with a final, teasing thrust— so strong, in fact, that it made your boobs jiggle up and down, he sent you over the edge, your voice dying in your throat before you felt something pop in your stomach and fuck, it was so effortlessly quick like he didn't even need to try to make you feel this way.

©2024 anantaru  do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[caen-dy]

Guardian Angel!Sunday who is completely obsessed with you, his protege.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who's presence is so overwhelming that you and everyone around you feel the weight on your shoulders. He won't stop with it, even with your complaints of constant migraines due to his actions.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who knows he can only interfere to a certain extent on human affairs, but doesn't care. He isn't discrete. That woman who looked at you wrong while on the street? The next day she has caught an incurable disease. His duty to protect you comes before anything else, even rules.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who ends up causing you to isolate because every time you come across someone bad things happen. He does bad things.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who looks like a looming shadow in the edge of your bed, standing menacingly and watching you with a cold gaze. Smirking when you tremble in your sleep as he tucks away a couple of loose strands of hair falling over your face.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who becomes an inescapable part of your life.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who is in control of what you do, how you do it, where you do it. Who uses his power and influence to ensure you're not able to escape his clutches.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who prevents any harm from happening to you. You don't know how, but your body hasn't touched the floor when you trip over nothing, your head hasn't hit the kitchen counter when you're cooking absentmindedly.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who's obsession causes him to change. His body and soul change.

Guardian Angel!Sunday who hears you scream once you see him. And who's shadow towers over your body as he gets closer. A clawed hand cupping your jaw, a pointy end tail that wraps around your waist. Horns over his head. And a forked tongue that creeps out of his mouth when he smiles at finally being able to touch.

sunday masterpost

tag list

a/n: this post is a mess and just me rambling :BBB

[caen-dy]

To the anon that suggested Curly Manhandling..

here bookie <3

NSFW MINORS GO AWAY

Curly’s quite the big fellow. He knows it, too. He’s always flexing his arms in front of you to show off his gym gain and taking every opportunity to show off his impressive build. You don’t mind it. It’s a bit of a turn-on, knowing all that is all yours. But the best part is when he uses that muscle he worked so hard on to fuck you dumb. He knew you liked to be manhandled and took that to heart, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder whenever you suggested taking things to the bedroom. He adored the squeals and giggles from you when he did. Filled his heart with a sense of pride… or maybe he just adored his sweet girl. His favorite method was pushing your legs up to your head while he pounded into you, seeing the very slight bulge of his cock outlined in your stomach when he thrusts. You’re soaked and gripping him like a vice and he could die happily right now, buried 9 inches inside you. He’d hunch over to quicken his pace, hands pinning your wrists up by your head. He’d love looking at your fucked-out face, the slight drool pooling at the corner of your lips, your slightly crossed eyes, mouth parted in an O shape. You looked so pretty like this. He wanted to take a picture and frame it, hang it above his bed so he could see it every day. Your face was amazing, but it came in second only to your moans. Your beautiful, sweet little noises. Whines of his name, pleas, whimpers, all of it spurred him on. Hearing his name from your mouth was music to his ears. “Yeah, baby? Wan’ me to go faster? Harder? You got it, lemme take care of you.. Sweet thing.” “Fuck, you’re takin’ me good… g’na make me come quick..” And you took it like a champ. When he did pump you full of his kids, you took every drop. He’d let you fall back and observe his come leaking out your poor cunt. But he’s not finished, ladies and gents. Oh no. He doesn’t normally do this out of fear of hurting you, but when he’s particularly stressed and you’re just offering yourself.. Full Nelson time!! Yup, he’s got your back pressed flush against his chest, ass against his pelvis, cock thrusting in and out of you. He has an arm locked around you to hold you in place, and his other’s holding up one of your thighs for a better angle. You find this position the hottest because he finally gets to be rough with you.he begs to differ, but as long as it makes you happy, and it really does. “Fu-uck, baby, keep movin’ like that, i gotcha.. Mhmmm. Feels so good..” He’s babbling praise into your ear while he destroys you, the gentleman that he is, and making sure to kiss you everywhere he can. Soft little ‘sorry’s on your skin. He feels bad for being so rough with you, but he can't help it when it feels so good. Even he’s moaning like a girl now just from the euphoric bliss of being inside your sweet little cunt. And he’ll keep going, until he’s filled you up with at least 5 loads of his come. He wants to pump you full of his babies in hopes he’ll start a family with you. But, more likely, he’s just obsessed with seeing you leak his seed out of your abused hole. Either way, you’re full of him, a reminder of what he does to you. You’ll certainly find it difficult to walk tomorrow, but it’s worth it. He’ll take care of you, since it’s his fault you’re in that state, poor thing. And he’ll do it all over again when you want him to! <3

[caen-dy]

CW: Perverted character, fingering, inappropriate workplace relations, client x worker, overstim, underwear stealing

Secret Pervert! Aglaea whose hands always linger a bit too long on your waist whenever she takes your measurements. She doesn’t mean to stay there for too long, but how could she resist you when your body feels so good and she could smell the sweet soaps you bathed in earlier before your appointment.

Secret Pervert! Aglaea who always asks you to strip before you could even get through the door. She’s always eager to have you in your underwear for her, even if she can’t see you properly in it. Her imagination always lets her mind wander and she has to hold back the urge to unclasp your bra strap from behind when you aren’t looking.

Secret Pervert! Aglaea whose hands are so cold yet light, trailing goosebumps among their wake as she praises you for just how beautiful you are. Oh how nice you fill her clothes, staying still for her and letting her touch you like this. It feels wrong to be taking advantage of you like this as your private seamstress, but from the way you whimper and gasp at the way her lips trail down your back, it seems you don’t quite mind…

Secret Pervert! Aglaea who tests out how flexible her model is by bending you over her vanity and pressing you up against the icy mirror. Your breath fogs up the glass as Aglaea raises your legs up from the side, one leg thrown over her shoulder while the other lays restlessly on the vanity.

Secret Pervert! Aglaea who thrusts her long, lithe fingers into your cunt and fills them up as deep as she can go. She sighs in pure bliss when she hears you sing like a canary for her, your voice making her legs weak as she struggles to hold you up.

Secret Pervert! Aglaea who doesn’t stop thrusting until her hand and floors are covered in your slick. From where you’re dangling, there is a small, embarrassing puddle of white while Aglaea thumbs at your clit. She leans down to swallow up your moans in a kiss, pushing her own tongue into your mouth to gag you for temporary.

Secret Pervert! Aglaea who gives your rear one little gentle pat as she pulls your panties back up. They’re all stained and wet from cum by now, but she doesn’t care. She’ll stitch you up a new undergarment set the next time you come, but for now, your appointment with her is over.

Secret Pervert! Aglaea who smiles to herself as you wobble away from her shop. While she let you keep the stained panties, she decided she wanted to keep your pretty bra for herself <3

[caen-dy]

i want swansea to finger me. i ❤️ fat men

ship. swansea x reader

content. fingering, reader is gender neutral but they do kinda ride his face

Jesus Christ.

Swansea’s had enough of this. Pony Express in general has always been on his ass, making him scoff and roll his eyes at every idiotic new rule or exception they make with hauls. But this one really takes the cake.

Having his fellow crewmate spread eagle on his work bench is fucking ridiculous.

Why do they keep hiring young people? He supposes it’s because they’re cheap, and this company’s the most penny pinching business in the game. But the costs surely outweigh the benefits.

They’re stupid, inexperienced. They can’t keep it their pants, and the effects of the haul start doing numbers on their psyche much quicker that the others. The tension between you two was palpable. Swansea could see the way you eye fucking him clear as day despite all his attempts to keep you focused on work at hand.

Fuck it. He huffs. He’ll take care of this himself. He’s not dying to some stupid mistake you make because you’re two busy imagining getting your guts rearranged to actually focus.

“Can’t believe this shit…”

Swansea hisses. His thick fingers trail down the expanse of your thigh, causing you to shudder.

Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh? He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so preoccupied with annoyance. But he can’t fully blame you. Swansea’s been there before. The hormones pumping through your body are begging you to fuck. Going without a good orgasm is torture to someone your age.

Good thing he’s here. A rugged, experienced individual like him. Yeah. Making a young thing like you fall apart on his fingers will be a piece of cake. You probably don’t know any better, anyways. Years of experience have polished him into quite the lover.

The thick callouses on his fingers force your thighs open, spreading your sex out in clear view. Swansea tsks, trying to fight back the heat that flares through his body at the sight.

“Not only do I gotta watch over you. Show you the ropes, keep you from killing yourself every ten damn seconds—but I gotta get you off too? The fuck does Pony Express think I am, some kind of prostitute?”

The least they could do is give him a raise. Fucking cheapskates. They probably think putting some young, hot piece of ass glued to his hip is a favor for him. Fuck it, they should’ve just been transparent and invested in a barracks bunny. It would save him the constant headache of having to train you.

“You better not take this for granted, kid. Once you’re spent, I’m expectin’ you to work twice as hard next shift.”

It’s a serious declaration. You better haul ass once he’s done this for you. Swansea’s large hand hovers right near where you want him. You feverishly nod in agreement. Whatever it takes to get those digits inside you as soon as possible.

“Good. Lay back and enjoy this, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it often.”

He would, though. If you asked again. Swansea’s hand moves down the expanse of your thigh, settling over your sex. He trails his thumb down your outer lips a few times, humming in acknowledgement at the wetness that coats your pubes and spreads from his movements.

“Already wet too? God, you’re easy. Or have you been waitin’ for a chance like this?”

His question is rhetorical, obviously, because the way his thumb starts to round your clit has you throwing your head back—blocking any answer that would’ve come out. Swansea knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s had his wife spread like this plenty of times, so it only takes a few movements and studying your facial expression before he finds what pressure and movements have you grinding back into his touch. He’s even sure to pay attention to the underside of clit, poking the sensitive head from its hood just enough to make you jump.

The attention makes you embarrassingly wet. Just from the older man stroking your sensitive bud, he’s already got your hips bucking and wanton moans leaving your lips. Is this how guys feel when they jerk off? Because the way Swansea’s got you coming apart with ease has you inching closer and closer with each passing second.

And when he stops, you whimper. It’s pathetic. But you’re too damn horny to give a shit at this point. Being stuck on the Tulpar has left you at the mercy of your own hand and imagination. Having someone else touch you for once is electrifying.

“Don’t bitch.” Swansea commands gruffly, adjusting himself in his work chair. You notice there's a gentle flush to his cheeks, but his eyes remain focused on your bottom half. His fingers stroke your slit again. The way he’s eyeing the slick that coats it is a little embarrassing—as if he’s assessing something. His middle finger pushes past your entrance, and at the sign of little resistance, the older man smirks. He adds his index finger in the midst of the third stroke, but keeps the pace slow.

Good Lord, his fingers are thick. Almost as thick as he is. They’re rough, thoroughly calloused from years of working with his hands. You can feel that texture on your inner walls as they split you open. Swansea’s thrusting them into you slowly still, but deliberate. Yes, he’s trying to get you closer and closer to that pending orgasm, but—

A choke moan escapes your lips when he finds it, that one spot inside you that makes your stomach drop.

“Right there, eh?” He’s smirking.

Those wide fingers curl around your g-spot, hitting it just right with each movement of his hand. He’s relentless, thumping against the area and speeding up his strokes. Your eyes roll back, vision blurred by stars as your orgasm comes tumbling towards you.

And you think that’s it, but the feeling of stubble against your thigh has you second guessing. Before you know it, Swansea’s lips seal around your slit. His other arm wraps around your thigh, fingers resting above your slit and pulling upwards to make the bud poke out at him for easier access. Your own hips involuntarily start to buck and grind against the older man’s face, smearing a mix of slick and saliva over his mouth and nose as you fuck yourself against it.

You cum quicker than you ever had in your life on his face. Never, ever have you been more thankful for Utility being so secluded from other parts of the ship. The sounds you make echo from the walls as you tense up and shudder. Vibrations from Swansea chuckling between your thighs make you whine as he continues to fuck you through your own release.

Your chest rises and falls with shaky pants as you fall limp onto the cold steel of the bench. With a hazy mind tingling body, you lie there, trying to recollect yourself after your superior just made you cum like that.

Swansea, ever so eager to stay on task, kicks back from the workbench, idly licking his fingers clean.

“Now you better pull yourself together, kid. We gotta job to do, y’hear?”

He tosses your clothes from the floor back at you. You take a few moments to gather yourself, before attempting to straighten things up. Swansea’s left the Utility room now—likely on the way to the bathroom to wash his own hands and start on his next task.

But on reflection, before you can tug your pants back on and get to work, you notice something off.

Your underwear’s gone.

(And somewhere, Swansea’s enjoying his new prize.)

[caen-dy]

the "cum on her dildo and fuck her with it" is sooo something satoru would do... he's just bored one day and decided to show you that no matter what form, it's him you're gonna be full of at the end of the day. he fucks you so full and so well with your pretty pink dildo and it's lowkey condescending?? like you whine that you're close to cumming and he's like "oh really? yea, baby, i could tell :((" UGHH MY MIND IS SPINNING

this is genuinely so hot what the fuck how am i supposed to function after reading this??

he's just so mean about it, fucking you with it through orgasm after orgasm. each time you just get whinier and whinier as you hiccup his name.

"t-toru, 'm cummin', m' cummin', s'toru," you slur through overstimulated sobs. he just coos, mocking your little whines and hiccups.

"aww, s' too good? too good f' this tiny lil' cunt, mm? listen to herrrr, she's sooo happy, so full, so stuffed...sticky lil' pussy, droolin' all over the place."

he fucking giggles when you gasp and jolt at the wet kiss he plants on your clit, giving his own little fake gasp when he pulls back and a tiny little strand of your slick sticks to his bottom lip.

"aww, tha's so cute, she's tryna kiss me back!"

satoru is cruel when he pulls out the stupidly thick dildo from your pussy, clicking his tongue as he gives you a little slap on it for whining his name. "you came so many times on this piece of plastic, makes a man jealous. 's really your favorite? you like it s' much you cum on it 5 times? thought i was your favorite, lil' mochi..."

you swear you almost die when he pushes his cock inside you, bottoming out instantly with no warning. it's hot, it's throbbing, it feels soo much better than the pink toy buried inside you just moments ago.

"ooohh, that's so good...fuck, babyyy, i am your favorite, you sucked me in so fast, 'm your favorite, always have been," he coos, licking your overstimulated tears off your cheek. he loves when you get like this, so messy everywhere, pretty and pliant, the brat completely fucked out of you. "c'mon, honeybun, gonna give your pretty pussy a buncha kisses for bein' sooo sweet to me, m'okay? jus' take it like a good girl."

[caen-dy]

i love saying “i’m being normal about it” bc i’m actually a filthy fucking liar and i’ve never been normal about anything a single day in my life