#no idea how its supposed to fit under a hakama

[gil-estel]

it's way past my bedtime (and theirs) but I have 2 (mostly) completed robes and a workable shirt pattern that I'm fairly confident I can adapt into the undershirt and a vest.

so. decent progress.

over the workweek I plan on finishing the robes (hemming, finishing raw edges, moving the pockets higher on robe #1) and possibly knocking out flashback indara's shirt if I have time

[wri0thesley]

hi! please do not talk to me! i am just as disappointed in myself as you are!

arrangement - naoya x fem!reader (3.7k)

warnings: naoya is just an asshole lmao, misogyny, arranged marriage mentions, degradation, humiliation, spitting, unhealthy ‘relationship’. afab reader, fem pronouns

despite your clan elders’ best intentions, you are clearly not a good match for someone as well placed in the world as naoya. still. that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun with you. 

You should have known that it was a fruitless endeavour.

No matter how nicely your hair might be set and your clothes might be chosen, how intricately and carefully your makeup applied – how pretty your manners might be . . . This was never going to go anywhere. Oh, your elders might have thought this was a good idea, and sure it would be – if it were possible. If your clan wasn’t hanging on by the skin of its teeth already. If you’d been blessed – if that was the right way to put it – with more cursed energy than you had been.

But you were not. It had been clear to you the moment you had been – cordially, politely – introduced to him. You hadn’t looked him in the eye – you’d been briefed on what he was like enough to know that – but you’d still sensed the flickering of his gaze over your form. You’d still seen the curve of his mouth into a cruel sneer.

“What a pity,” he’d said, tone not belying an ounce of the pity he mentioned. “I’m far too busy for acts of charity.”

You should have left it at that. You should have accepted it was not to be and went back to your own clan with your tail between your legs, just another failure – or perhaps, you should have looked up into his eyes and spat at him and insisted you were worth more than that. If you had been braver, if you had talked back--

But you do not. Inside, you are meek and quiet. You are cowed by what you know is the power that is at his fingertips, not just physically but also in the sheer luck of having been born as he was born. You duck your head. You feel your cheeks warm. Something about the sneer on his face, the mocking tone . . . sends a curl of heat right to the centre of your belly that you desperately try to ignore.

Tripping over your words, you apologise to him.

For wasting his time.

And it’s that which sets these particular events in motion.

Naoya sees how easily you bend under just his words and the weight of his gaze on you – and though, of course, you are not fit to be his wife the way that your clan elders clearly wanted you to be . . . he likes the idea of your eyes, downturned on the floor. He likes the idea of you on your knees before him. He likes the idea of being able to throw you around, and you, deferential as you take it.

No, even though you would walk three steps behind him and be behest to his whims, you lack the impressive lineage and the splendour of a great union that Naoya is looking for in a wife. But that does not mean, he thinks, as he watches you leave, his eyes following the suggestive curve of your body beneath the layers of fabric, that he cannot have a little fun with you first.

You come to his rooms without an ounce of hesitation. You must know, surely – after the way he treated you at your introduction – that he has no pure intentions. Certainly, the servants milling about his estate know as you’re shown to where he wants you.

Good. Your eager acquiescence just cements the fact to him that he has made the right decision; you will be weak-willed and desperate to please, and though he has no intentions of honour when it comes to what he’s going to do to you, he knows you will do it anyway.

“You came,” he says to you, as you stand across the room, where he’s lounging, entirely at ease, against the pillows on his bed. Your entire body fizzes. You know you should not be here.

(There is something about him that your body cannot deny.)

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a whore.” You flinch at the word, though that strange curl of heat returns to your middle. You fight it off as best you can. He sees how you swallow, the way you respond to the name – and he is smirking again, rising from the pillows, walking over to you with all of the grace of a predator. His fingertips reach out, tracing the line of your chin (your skin is pleasingly soft beneath them). “That’s what you are, right? Your clan elders sent you here to see if that’s what you’d be for me.”

He tips up your face. It’s the first time that your eyes have been anywhere near his, and he’s delighted to see the flair of panic and confusion in your gaze. Cute.

“That’s not—” You say, your voice very dry. You struggle with the words, knowing despite yourself that part of him must be right – if you were not, surely it wouldn’t have been as simple as him summoning you and you going there--

“You can’t honestly think you’d have made me a wife, hmm?” He lowers his head, too close to you – your entire body feels like it’s thrumming with energy, buzzing with unrestrained tension. “You’re pathetic.” The word is practically a purr, and your body responds in kind – Naoya, seeing how your eyes cloud over, how you have to stop yourself biting your lip, is delighted.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, desperate, miserable. You don’t understand why your thighs feel slick and your legs feel shaky, or why your head seems to have clouded over with thoughts that refuse to take proper shape.

“Aww.” His thumb slides across your lip – and you find yourself opening your mouth without meaning to, letting him slide the tip of his thumb in and press down on your tongue. “That’s right. You’re cuter when you don’t talk.”

You don’t say anything. You’re not sure you could, anyway – not with how dry your throat feels. Naoya clicks his tongue.

“Suck it, then,” he tells you, with the air of an impatient man giving orders to a puppy dog. You suppose that’s what you are, really – because you do close your lips, and you do lathe your tongue across the pad of his thumb. He’s still smirking at you, damnably attractive if only for the air of self-assured cockiness. “You’ll want to get used to having something in your mouth.”

His other hand comes up and pushes the kimono you’re wearing (too formal of a kind, really – but your clan elders had wanted to show deference to the Zenins, and they had hoped that perhaps you would be meeting your future husband, and everybody knew that Naoya would prefer a traditional young bride--) to one side, exposing too much of your collarbone and chest.

“Not bad,” he tells you. “Not good enough for me, of course but . . . you’ll do for this.”

You hate that you know what ‘this’ is. You hate that you have no protest to give as he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and turns his back on you.

“Take them off,” he tells you. “Be quick about it. I don’t have all day. Women can be so slow.”

Your hands are shaking as you go to untie your obi. Your self-preservation instinct is telling you to run. Naoya stops where he is and turns his head, his lips still tilted as he sees you’re doing as he asked. Oh, but you’re fun – he feels like a cat playing with a mouse.

“Hurry. Up.” It’s a snap, all pretence – he’s rather enjoying the shaking and the trembling. He can’t help but look at you hungrily as the fabric pools about your ankles in your clumsy undressing. “Before I change my mind, and send you back out into the estate like that.”

Why are you still doing what he asks? You finish undressing and shiver in the cool air, standing there, waiting for whatever he’s going to tell you to do next.

He reaches the bed and turns, sitting on it. He’s entirely casual about the whole thing, his elbows resting on his knees as he steeples his hands together and just looks at you. You burn under his gaze.

“Yes,” he repeats. “You’ll do. Come here--”

You take a step forward, only to stop as he holds up his hand. He takes the patient tone of a man talking to an animal once more.

“Not like that. Think about it, come on. Your head is above mine. That’s not very respectful of you, is it?”

He swathes the words in velvet, making them sound like a question – but you can hear the steel inside of them. The order. He doesn’t need to tell you twice, before you’re sinking onto your knees with your throat dry. Your thighs press together, slick friction making you shiver as you crawl towards Naoya. He tips his head to one side and smiles coldly as if his smile is a reward.

(He watches the way your ass moves as you crawl. He can hear your laboured breathing in the quiet room. In the low glint of the light, he can see the hint of wetness between your thighs.)

You’re so eager to please, even knowing that Naoya is going to use you and discard you. Just as you should be. You feel lucky he’s giving you the briefest time of day.

“Stop,” he says, and you jump to his command as if it’s law. Perfect. He takes a handful of your hair and drags it, pulling you forward so that your face is close to the stiffness that you probably can’t tell he’s sporting through the loose fit of his hakama. He jerks your face so that it rubs against his thigh through the fabric. “Well?”

The bob of your throat as you swallow. You look up at him with your eyes filled with confusion.

“As much as the position suits you,” he says, tone clipped, “are you so stupid you don’t know what I want you to do?”

Oh. Oh.

You are still on your hands and knees. You go to bring one of your hands towards the ties and are stopped with a ‘tch’ of impatience, Naoya kicking at it and trapping it beneath his foot on the floor, with little care about how you wince. He doesn’t hold back his strength.

“You’re going to touch me with that after it’s been all over the filthy floor?” He asks, arching one thin eyebrow. “I don’t think so. If you’re going to be as gormless as an animal, you may as well act like one. Your cheek.”

Heat floods your cheeks once more as you realise what he wants. By now, the strange feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s making you wet has become all encompassing, not at all helped by the friction of your thighs or the way that Naoya is talking down to you. You should not be turned on by it. You should be disgusted by him, glad he doesn’t want you as a wife--

So why do you let out a soft whimper as you lean your cheek forward like a docile animal. It presses against something hot and hard, obvious even through the fabric. You don’t let yourself look at him, embarrassed by how easily you let him tell you what to do – if you were looking, perhaps you’d have seen the brief way his teeth dug into bottom lip, seen the softest exhale of his breath. (It’s better you didn’t. He does not like to show weakness.)

He lets you nuzzle against his cock for a few moments, enjoying the sight of you on your knees, your head bowed – but it is not enough for him. Not when he knows you’ll let him do whatever you want.

The hand still in your hair drags you back unfeelingly, letting go of you on the back swing. You almost overbalance – but you have been well-trained in the art of grace. That would have been something he’d have looked for in a wife, if you had been better placed.

Almost a pity, really.

“I’d ask you to undo it,” he says, as he goes to untie his own complicated knots. “But you’re shaking. Are you that eager to suck my cock? Slut.”

He’s right, you are and you are and you are--

There. There’s no going back for you now, as Naoya lets the hakama drop and then rests back on his hands, unconcerned, as if this kind of thing happens for him every day. Hell, for him, maybe it does – surely you’re not the first poor young woman who has been sent by people more powerful than her to try and please the Zenin clan. For some reason, the thought that you’re not the first, that you’re not special, makes another ricochet of heat twist low between your thighs.

“Well?” He asks, mockingly. “It’s not going to suck itself.”

You’re shaking as you approach it, opening your mouth.

“Not too much teeth, now,” he says lightly. “You don’t want to see me get angry.”

(Maybe you do? But you want to please him just as much, so you open your mouth wider, try and let your lips relax--)

He lets out a sigh as your mouth engulfs the head. He tastes salty and musky – you do not have anything to compare it to, but it’s not exactly unpleasant. You experimentally lick across the head of his cock, where the slit is leaking pre-come – and for that, you win a fluid hiss of pleasure. The idea that you’re pleasing him makes you squeeze your thighs together in search of stimulation and friction, a dull jolt of pleasant warmth spreading through your sex. Oh, you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life.

“More of your tongue,” he says to you, and you do your level best to accommodate – your tongue lapping at the veins of his shaft, travelling along the underside. Your jaw feels stretched wide, and you know you are drooling a little. You shift on your knees without being asked to, taking him further down your throat – you sense a twitch in his cock, the slight relaxing of the muscles in his thighs, and a shiver of pleasure runs through you at the idea that he is enjoying what you’re doing.

Pleasing Naoya suddenly seems the most important thing in the world to you – and certainly it feels the most important thing in the world to that emptiness inside you that you feel sure would be filled perfectly by Naoya’s cock. You take him further and further. You hum low in the back of your throat and Naoya’s fist on the bed flexes – you delight in it.

Every time you do something that makes his body respond in even the smallest of ways, you feel a full body thrill run through you that starts in your cheeks and makes it’s way to the junction between your legs, soaking you, making you vibrate and twitch with need. You have never felt so hungry for anything as you do the idea of Naoya touching you--

The crown of his cock bumps against the back of your throat, making you gurgle wetly – tears springing to your eyes at just how much of him is stuffed in your mouth. It’s this that finally spurs Naoya himself to action, once more returning to grabbing at your hair.

His hips begin to piston, thrusting his cock in and out.

“You’re . . .” He breathes, in between great pumps of his hips. “Almost good at that.”

(It’s the closest he’s come to praise so far and the sound of his voice, thick with hunger and lust, is locked away inside some secret part of your mind – you know you will not be able to touch yourself without his voice, the hitch of his groans, coming back to you in a cadence finer than any music you’ve ever heard).

He uses your mouth like he’d use his own fist, pumping fast and hard, his cock kissing the back of your throat with every glide. His breath begins to get shorter, and as you feel the flesh of the shaft twitch beneath your tongue, pulsating, you ready yourself for the salty rush of his release coating your mouth. You’ll swallow everything he gives you, maybe he will call you a good girl for your troubles--

He doesn’t. The hand wrapped around your hair (so neatly arranged, when you’d arrived at the estate – now, a mass of tangles, nothing more than a handle for Naoya to grab onto) jerks.

You cough at the sudden tug. You know he was close, you felt it – so why had he pulled you off of him? The noise that escapes you is half wounded-animal, half confusion – Naoya is sneering down at you, his hand around the base of his cock.

“Open your mouth,” he tells you – and you obey. You want him to come in your mouth! You want to be good for him, you want to swallow down every drop. “Do you really think you deserve to taste my seed? When you’re so . . . inferior, in every way? So . . . inadequate?”

“Please,” you whimper, through the haze of neediness and the ache in your jaw. “Please, I want to, I’ll be good--”

“You’d take anything I gave you, wouldn’t you? You really are pathetic.” You nod, frantically – if you agree with him, maybe he’ll do something about this all, you’re too far gone to have anything close to rational thought. He laughs at you, a sound like a bark – and then, he’s spitting directly onto your mouth, the mess landing on your tongue. “Swallow it.”

Disgusting, you’re disgusting, why isn’t the way he’s acting doing a thing to dampen your desire? You swallow.

The curl of his lip is unfairly attractive. You think he’ll pull you even closer to him, make you open your mouth again and come directly down your throat until you’re coughing all over the floor – but he doesn’t. He moves his hand, pumping his cock – and then, he’s coming, his shaft twitching in his own grip--

And his come spurting across your face, painting your cheeks. You close one of your eyes to stop it getting in there, but it’s a feeble task – you feel it on your face, dripping down your nose, you know some of it has gotten into your hair. Through the one eye still open, you see Naoya’s smug face.

“Did you really think I’d come in your mouth?” He asks, all cruelty. “You don’t deserve to have my seed inside you. In fact . . . Hmm.” He relaxes, looking at you where you’re a mess on the floor. Your kimono and all the ephemera of what you were wearing lies in a discarded pile across the room where you’d taken them off. “You can put on your clothes, I suppose. But . . . don’t clean yourself up. Not even with your sleeve. You should be proud a nothing like you gets to wear it.”

He flaps his hand at you, clearly dismissing you.

“I—I--”

Your voice sounds cracked and strained and small in the room. Pathetic. Just like you. But more pathetic is the heat that seems to cling to every inch of your skin that you know will not go away until you’re touched.

“You . . . you . . . you what?” He mocks you. Your face, all heat, your big blown out eyes darkened by lust . . . He narrows his eyes and smiles, but it’s a smile that’s utterly mirthless, cold as dawn frost. “I’m not going to lower myself to touching you.”

(You think you were expecting it; but still, your sex clenches around emptiness, practically pulsating as he derides you again. Perhaps you are a glutton for punishment.)

You bow your head. You know, if you stand up, Naoya will say something about your head being above his again – so you stay on your knees, crawling towards the pile of clothes. Naoya is drawn once more to the way the slick is dripping down your thighs, the inviting slit of your sex--

“You’re so wet I can see it from here,” he jeers. “Disgusting. You really are a slut, huh?”

Your fingers fumble with the fine fabrics. If your clan elders knew how you had left your formalwear here, on the floor of his room--

You tie the knots. You cannot do anything about the mess on your face, drying too quickly, sticky and uncomfortable – but part of you wants to wear it like a badge of honour.

You finally let yourself stand up, stopped only by a mocking little sing-song of your name, the mocking inflection of the cute honorific at the end that he shouldn’t be using for you--

You turn to him for the final time, too embarrassed, too wet, too hot and aching to meet his eyes. You concentrate on his mouth instead (you know that mouth will haunt your daydreams, blanket quiet night-times when your hands delve between your legs and you have to bite your lip to stifle your sounds.)

“Perhaps,” he says, with the air of a man bestowing a great honour, “perhaps your clan elders need not know I’ve rejected you yet.” A brief flare of hope in your chest, that he sees and takes a fierce, primal kind of pleasure in snuffing out. “Oh, don’t get me wrong – I’ve no intention of lowering myself to marrying you. But . . .”

That grin, barbaric, cruel, cold, heartless.

“It’s only proper for a man of my stature to have a mistress,” he tells you. The idea should disgust you. Why doesn’t it? You need to find a quiet place to hide in the Zenin estate, where you will not be interrupted – where you can press your fingers inside of yourself and imagine they are his. He takes great pleasure in adding; “And I like a woman who knows her place.”

One more flap of his hand – this time, a final dismissal.

“I’ll see you again,” he says, as you slip out of the door--

It sounds like a threat.

[ikesenrambles]

Hey, I just wanted to say i adore your writing so much, it's so descriptive and never fails to get a reaction out of me! If it's okay for me to ask, (headcanons or scenario, i don't mind!) perhaps a dom! mc somehow acquiring modern sex toys to use, maybe on Yukimura, Ieyasu and/or Hideyoshi? Feel free to have fun with it!

You are so sweet to say that! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I’m really happy to hear that my writing has such an effect on you -- after all, that’s something I always hope to achieve in my writing. I hope that you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I absolutely love dom! MC, especially writing a dom! MC with Hideyoshi haha. ≧◡≦ Also I don’t know why I always write Yuki with butt stuff but uhhhhm...! Hope you like it!  ♡

If you enjoy my work, please support me on Ko-Fi, ikesenrambles. ♡ 

The following is NSFW: 

Yukimura

It takes a while for him to relax under your touch, but the soothing feeling of your hands rubbing his shoulders and cascading down his back puts him at ease. Your fingers trail down battle scars and trace the gentle dip of his hips, your palms pressing against the small of his back and eliciting a quiet sound of surprise as they teasingly move downward. His own hands fist at the bedclothes as he prepares himself for what’s to come, that initial searing pain that gives way to inexplicable pleasure. Just the thought is enough to make him blush furiously as he buries his face into the futon and lifts his hips up as if to say ‘Get it over with already.’

“This might be a little cold,” he hears you warn him as you massage his lower back and smooth your hands over his bottom. You squeeze a bottle of lube onto his skin, causing him to shudder in response, his body convulsing momentarily at the cold wetness. He feels you gathering the lube onto your finger, feels the tip just slightly prodding at his hole. He’s flushed, from his cheeks to his neck to the very tips of his ears, still embarrassed of the act itself and the thought of your being the only person to ever touch him somewhere so private.

You tease his hole ever so slightly with your finger, tracing it in small circles, then slowly and carefully ease your finger inside of him. He makes a soft, stifled sound, shuts his eyes and bites down on his own knuckles as you make your way deeper inside of him. With one finger still inside of him, he feels your other hand reach for him, your fingers wrapping around him. He’s hard, just from the thought of you touching him more, and he’s still too shy to open his eyes and look at just how horny you’ve made him from playing with his ass. He positions himself better to let you stroke him at the same time, getting on his hands and knees.

You grab his hips and pull him back against you, gently kissing the hot skin of his neck before whispering in his ear, “I have a surprise for you… but it might hurt a teensy bit. Just… trust me, okay?” He nods and allows you to bend him over the futon. He hears you reach for the bottle of lube again, hears the sound of you squeezing it and the sound of it being rubbed against something, but the cold wetness doesn’t come… That is, until he feels something new, something foreign, pressing against him.

“What is that…?” he stammers out, turning his head slightly to peek at you. You hold it up for him to see the prostate massager that you’d brought back from the modern age to use on him. The very sight of it makes his eyes widen in disbelief, as he shakes his head wordlessly. “That thing’s not gonna fit. There’s no way…” he mumbles to himself, as if trying to convince himself of all people that it wouldn’t really be a good idea. And yet, he felt himself tingling with a feeling of curiosity that he couldn’t shake. “N-not that I can’t take it or anything…” he muttered defensively, a little louder this time, feeling his cheeks burning at the very words he spoke. “What I mean is…”

You giggle softly to yourself. “I think I know what you mean,” you murmur lovingly as you place soft kisses down his spine. “Don’t you worry one bit. I’ll be gentle.”

Ieyasu

“I don’t trust that thing…”

Those were the first words that Ieyasu said when you pulled the vibrator out of your bag and presented it to him, disclosing that you had spent the last few nights thinking about using it on him. Inhaling sharply, Ieyasu had rolled his eyes and scoffed at you in skepticism, crossing his arms in a show of blatant refusal. He had done all this, and yet he was still shy of saying an outright “no.” As you sat on your knees at the edge of the futon, holding the vibrator in your hand, he couldn’t help but take a peek at you from the corner of his eyes, his curiosity betraying him. Biting his lip, he sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair before puffing his cheeks out in quiet dismay. A pink blush dusting his cheeks, he closed his eyes to avoid his gaze and muttered under his breath, “How exactly is it supposed to work?”

Those were the events leading up to now. Your fingers trailing along your collarbone, teasing him, he watches you intensely with wide eyes as you languidly slip the kimono down your shoulders. The gentle slope of your shoulders and your soft skin against his rough hands feels just right, but before he could take control, you push him down into the futon and climbed on top of him. He lets out a sound of surprise, his eyes like saucers for a fleeting moment as he realizes that your roles have suddenly been reversed. “Now, now, I’m going to do all the pleasing tonight.” Your breath is hot against his neck as you lean in close to whisper in his ear, your tongue teasingly flicking out to taste his earlobe. He shudders, and though it takes him a while, he slowly relaxes under your touch, allowing himself to sink down into the futon.

Your mouth is on his neck, cascading down his chest. He gasps, his hands moving to the back of your head to grasp a handful of hair. “You’re… awfully excited today…” he breathlessly stammers out, stifling a moan as he feels your teeth graze his skin. You giggle against his chest, fingers moving lower as you work to remove his hakama. Shuffling the hakama down his ankles, you kiss your way up his calves and thighs, your lips praising every inch of exposed skin. As soon as you reach between his legs, where he needs you the most, you switch the vibrator on and press it against his balls.

The feeling is distinct and unexpected, and he flinches slightly at the new sensation. Lovingly, you move your lips against his, caressing his neck. “How does it… feel?” you whisper, trailing the vibrator up and down his length.

“It’s weird,” he mutters, expectly avoiding your gaze as he lets his cheek fall against the pillow. As soon as the words leave his lips, you take the vibrator off of him, slightly disappointed by his apparent displeasure. “Wait--” he stutters out, finally turning his head to meet your gaze. “I… I didn’t say stop, did I?” He’s blushing furiously now, his face flushed with embarrassment as he looks up at you vulnerably, no barrier now to hide the humiliation on his face.

Your lips twitch upward in a grin, and you switch the vibrator back on, returning it to its rightful spot between his legs. He grips the bedsheets, knuckles paling as you up the level. He struggles, biting his lip in an attempt to hold back the moans, but as soon as he feels you taking him into his mouth simultaneously, he can’t help but let out those sweet sounds he’d been holding off for far too long.

Hideyoshi

His voice is strangled, caught in his throat, a raspy croak when he moans softly against the crook of your neck. Soft lips and teeth graze your neck; his fingers grasp your body and cradle you close like you would with something precious, as you bury your hands into the mess of the golden brown locks of his hair. On his brow, you can feel beads of sweat begin to form, and on his skin, you can feel the heat emanating from within him. His cheeks are flushed with warmth, hot from blood rushing to his face and coursing through his body. As you capture his lips in a kiss, your mouth trailing down his neck and shoulders, your tongue tracing the muscles of his chest, he lets his head fall languidly to the side. “I feel like you’re… really spoiling me tonight…” he manages to say in between breaths, already panting.

Your name rolls off of his tongue so sweetly as he speaks those honeyed words that make your heart flutter and remind you he’s yours. By now, Hideyoshi is already so anxious for your touch, his body squirming slightly as you tease him, his breath becoming shallow as your hands roam over sensitive skin. He moans again, a soft little sound, as your fingers wrap around his length and start to stroke him where he craves your touch the most. As you told him before, tonight would be all about him and making him feel good, no exceptions and no excuses.

He hears you switch on the vibrator, that quiet hum filling his ears and rivaling the sound of his heartbeat still ringing in his ears. He tenses slightly in anticipation, and yet his loyalty and trust in you fails to falter and he lets his legs fall open before you. “Excited, are we?” you tease him as you meet his half-lidded gaze, those golden eyes glowing with lust, his mouth parted just slightly in anticipation as he watches you.

You position yourself behind him and test the waters first by running the vibrator along his legs. The muscles in his legs grow taught as you tease him there; he squirms, ticklish. As the sensation moves along the insides of his thighs, he stills, the vibrator approaching the place in between his legs where he’s aching for more stimulation. “Feel okay?” you ask him gently, partly to actually check on him and partly just to tease him even more. He nods almost shyly, letting his head roll back against your shoulder as he familiarizes himself to the feeling of the vibrations against his skin. “Don’t you worry,” you whisper, running your tongue along the vein in his neck, “I’ll be sure to take good care of you tonight.”

Your fingers move to grasp his balls with one hand as the other gently presses the vibrator to the head. He lets out a surprised, strangled gasp, his hips jerking up in reaction to the sudden intense stimulation. Smoothing one hand against his waist to steady him, you playfully remind him to relax.

The sound of his breath in your ear as he pants, desperately, against your neck is enough to drive you wild. His fingers find the sleeve of your kimono and clutches it fiercely as you up the setting on the vibrator. Drawn-out, wistful moans in your ear become lewd, loud whimpers against your neck. Trembling in your arms, he melts completely under your touch.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Shout out to my friend Foxy for giving me some insight into sex toys & how they feel on guys. <333