Sunny

𖦹 I'm 18, American (I'm a leftist), and use she/her pronouns - I personally identify as a girl, but I don't really care what pronouns people use for me! Do what makes you happy! I identify as bisexual and have a very, very lovely boyfriend! He makes me so so so happy and I'm so glad he's in my life!

⋆ I love to write, but I'm not very confident and have never posted anything. I would love to get some feedback and share my work on here :]

𖹭 I would prefer if my blog is 18+ just because I intend to write NSFW content if anyone wants to read it, BUT I know I can't stop anyone from reading or interacting with my posts - I've been on these sites since elementary school. Just pleaaase don't request anything NSFW from me if you're underage and I don't want to know if you're reading my NSFW content! But you're free to read it, as long as you're not telling me about it lol! Anyone can interact and send me messages or asks, just be respectful and kind!

✿ I am willing to write just about anything, to be honest! I don't have any experience with making my writing public, so I'm willing to do some experimenting to figure out what works for me! Here are the only (at least for now) boundaries I'm setting for requests:

NO underage, noncon (dubcon depends on the situation), bestiality, or incest!

NO scat, vomit, or oviposition! I won't yuck your yum, but it's not for me!

MAYBE piss! It's not for me personally, but I could write about it if someone sends a request!

MAYBE step-cest. I'll read it on occasion, but not without guilt! It depends on the situation for me!

YES to everything else! This is subject to change! I'm willing to write characters as submissive or dominant, vanilla, kinky, whatever floats your boat!

౨ৎ I have a lot of interests, so there are lots of characters I'll write for! Here's a list:

SFW + NSFW: OBX (but I've only seen the first season), Mouthwashing, MCU + Spider-Man variations (excluding Miles Morales), Hamilton, 10 Things I Hate About You, Sally Face, Harry Potter (NSFW only of characters that are 18+), marauders (admittedly, I only care about James, Remus, and Sirius), Stardew Valley, Supernatural (I've only seen the first few seasons, I'm sorry!), Criminal Minds, Modern Family, Stranger Things (adult characters), Deathnote, + you can recommend me more if you want <3, also Danganronpa (not really a fan anymore, but I'll write for it still!)

You start to catch up, holding the little purse that Jas has gained the habit of carrying with her everywhere. It’s filled with bits and bobs and lucky pennies she picked up off the ground in town while playing with Vincent. Secretly, you planted some of them face up just to hear her explain how that means they’re lucky. She tells you every time she sees you, completely forgetting you’ve heard it all from her many times before.

“No, you can’t!” Jas giggles, protectively pulling the ice cream cone closer to her chest. “Y/N bought it for me! If you want ice cream, you have to ask her for your own!”

Shane looks up at you. God, you’re beautiful. You just shine, no matter where you are. Your eyes are dazzling, second only to your smile. 

“I don’t have any more ice cream money.” You murmur, squatting down next to the pair. You greet Shane with a kiss on the cheek.

Jas hesitates, giving a thoughtful lick to her pink ice cream - It’s the same color as your piggies! “I guess you can use some of my lucky pennies.”

You ruffle her hair. “I’m kidding, honey. You keep your pennies. Maybe someday soon you’ll have enough to buy your own ice cream, hm?”

She pouts and walks off, headed for the front door to tell Marnie about your good deed. 

“She loves you,” Shane whispers, in awe. How did he get so lucky? Seriously, what could he have possibly done - In this life or a previous one - That earned him the good karma that is you? “I love you.”

Mwah. “I love you more.”

“Mm,” He hums, debating if he wants to make this an argument. He does. “I don’t think you do.”

You stand up and he follows, his knees popping. The two of you share a chuckle, and then you’re being embraced. 

Shane gives the best hugs. He holds you tight and he doesn’t let you go until you’re squirming and frantically tapping his back, complaining that you can’t breathe. But in those moments where the lack of oxygen has yet to set in, you’re on cloud nine. Sometimes he rubs your back or pets your hair - When he’s feeling mischievous, he might give your butt a little pinch. He loves the way you giggle and scold him in that soft, dreamy tone. It’s heaven on Earth. Heaven, right here in Stardew Valley, and it’s just you.

That’s when the insecurity creeps in. He thinks the world - More than the world, everything - of you, but what if that’s not how you feel about him? What if he’s just somebody you’re pitying? Do you think he’s someone in need of pity? 

What if you think he needs to lose weight? Do you think it’s weird he goes to the beach with a shirt on? He’s cut way down on his drinking, but what if you still think it’s too much? Is it lame that he works at JojaMart? Is it weird that he’s living with his aunt? Does he smell like a chicken? What if you-

“Shane,” You gently cradle his face in one of your hands. He leans into it like a cat - Is that too clingy? Pathetic? “What’s on your mind, lovely?”

He just… Stares at you. For a long moment. You’re so pretty. So pretty.

“You’re good with her,” He mumbles. “With Jas.”

“Yeah?” You stroke your thumb along his cheekbone. It’s not defined like Timothee Chalamet or Benedict Cumberbatch, but it doesn’t need to be. You adore the squish of his face. “So are you.”

“Not like you are,” He moves his arms lower, letting your hips act as a little shelf as he holds your waist. You just fit so perfectly. “You’re just…”

You lean in and kiss him. Just because he’s pretty, and you love him more than anything. You rub your nose against his before you pull away, smiling brightly. 

“You’re so handsome, Shane,” You murmur, bringing your other hand up to the other side of his face, admiring him. “I’m so lucky.”

Oh, he could cry. He might cry. It’s so incredible, the way you always know what to say to counteract the flurry of thoughts in his brain. You don’t need to comfort him with a declaration of love and an argument to every insecurity, you just say one little thing that shows him you do feel the same, even when he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. It’s so easy for him to get stuck in his head, convincing himself you’re too good for someone like him. It’s easy to think you deserve more than him, because you deserve the world - The stars, the galaxy, the other galaxies - But it’s a lot harder to understand that, to you, he is the world. He’s your world.

“I’m luckier.” He grins, tickling your sides so you get distracted laughing and forget to argue.

Of course, it works. Shane knows you too well.

“Stop,” You whine, squirming like a worm on a string in his arms. “I hate you!”

He pulls you close again, burying his nose in your hair. You smell like summer. Like oranges and salt and the juiciest peaches, the ones you always bring to Marnie’s house before you sell the rest so he and Jas can have the best ones. “You love me.”

He says it and, for the very first time, he doesn’t doubt it at all. 

“I do,” You kiss his face, not aiming for anywhere particular, just smooching anywhere and everywhere you can reach. “I love you to the moon and back.” Shane wants to tell you he loves you triple that, that he loves you all the way around the solar system, that he loves you more than anyone has ever loved anyone or anything before. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he just revels in your love. Not everything needs to be a competition. And he’s pretty sure you know he loves you that much.

He squeezes you tightly, picking you up off the ground and swinging you back and forth. He can’t contain himself when he’s near you. He just wants to put you in his pocket or sew himself to you so the two of you never have to part ways ever again.

You slowly spread your legs apart. Your jumpsuit is still zipped, so you’re not technically revealing yourself to him. The implication is clear.

“You’re fuckin’ joking.” He shakes his head. But he doesn’t move an inch. Surely if he was going to report you to Curly, he would be walking away by now, right? It’s not like he’s ever cared to spare your feelings before, why would he start now?

“M’not.” You whisper, tracing a single finger up one of your thighs. 

“There’s no fuckin’ way, kid,” But he takes a step closer. “Are you even old enough to drink?”

You don’t answer. That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you desperately need release, and Swansea is a hot older man equipped with thick fingers, thick thighs, and - If he’s proportional - A thick cock.

“You’re fuckin’ insane.” Swansea sits himself down on the spinny chair in front of you. He looks past you, making sure the door is still shut. “Whatever, kid. What d’you need from me?”

“Not much,” You bite your lip, hopping off of the counter. You don’t have to walk very far before you’re right in front of him. He’s not looking at you. Not even when you start unzipping your jumpsuit, or when you plop yourself down on one of his meaty thighs. “Not much…”

“Jesus fuckin’- Alright,” One of his hands rests on your waist. “Go on, then. And don’t take too long.”

You grind yourself forward on his pant leg, whimpering at the pressure on your clit. It’s mesmerizing to watch your hips move on his thigh. But his face is more mesmerizing, you think. He’s got his head tilted back against the chair, bored out of his mind like a teen in a lecture. You’re so used to his indifference that it doesn’t hurt your feelings anymore. It’s even a little attractive to be so blatantly disregarded when you’re clearly so desperate. 

“You’re gonna have to go faster than that,” He chastises, roughly maneuvering your hips to increase your speed. “Every second you waste is a second someone could walk in.”

“Sorry…” You exhale, restlessly grinding against his thigh. He’s guiding you perfectly - Has he done this before? Maybe. You don’t want to think about it.

“...You’re alright.” He grumbles, finally looking at you. You are pretty cute, he can’t deny that. Still, he shouldn’t be letting you do this. You’re basically his student! There’s not a single situation where it would be appropriate for you to be this close to naked in front of him, let alone grinding on him. 

And yet…

“Bet you can’t feel much with this on,” He hooks his finger in the waistband of your panties and snaps the elastic against your skin. “Take it off - Don’t look at me like that, kid. I don’t want you to take it off. I just want this to go faster.”

You giggle as you lift yourself onto your knees, working your underwear down one leg at a time. It ends up in a heap on the floor with your jumpsuit. Swansea grips your hips with both hands this time, forcefully guiding your movements back and forth. There’s a stripe of slick left on his pant leg, but he doesn’t mind. Not that he’d ever tell you that. 

“Makin’ a fuckin’ mess,” He tsks, bouncing his leg. “Who’s gonna clean that, huh? Are you?”

You whine. “I-I will…”

“Sure you will,” He scoffs, rocking you hard enough that the chair starts to move along with you. “Sure you fuckin’ will. ‘Cause we both know you’re great at doing what I ask.”

“M’sorry…” You mewl, gripping his shoulders, digging your nails into his shirt. 

Swansea looks at you like you’re the most inconvenient of inconveniences, shaking his head at you. It makes you shudder and moan, and he wonders what the fuck must’ve happened in your childhood to make you like that. He suddenly stops you, blunt nails digging into your hips to keep you still.

“Y’know what?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Get up. Bend over.”

Your legs are shaking like crazy, but you listen. Of course, you listen now, when he’s about to stuff you full of cock. That’s all you’re good for, huh? Being filled with cock. 

You bend over the counter, resting your cheek on the cold surface as you wait. You can hear Swansea’s belt get pulled through the loops. Then you hear the button pop open. Then you hear the zipper.

“So fuckin’ wet,” He stands behind you, gripping your ass and spreading your cheeks apart so he can see where to put his dick. Your cunt is soaked, radiating heat, and your hole is fluttering. He gives your pussy a little slap. “You’re fuckin’ sick. Look how much you want this.” 

Swansea pushes his cock between your folds, rubbing himself with your wetness to use as lube. Your thighs twitch every time he brushes against your clit. 

He presses his hand to the top of his dick so he can finally fuck you. He doesn’t care that you’ve probably never taken cock as big as his, he fills you all the way up in seconds. You squeal, thighs pressing together and fingers gripping the edge of the counter hard enough that your knuckles blanche. Swansea can feel your pussy trying to push him out, not stretched out enough yet to take all of him, but he doesn’t care. He just humps deeper into you.

“You’re not gettin’ out of this,” He groans, putting one of his hands over your mouth to keep you quiet. This would look bad if someone walked in. Guess he’ll just have to be quick. “You wanted this so fuckin’ bad, so you’re gonna have to fuckin’ take it. I don’t care how tight your little pussy squeezes me.”

You whine, but it’s good. Oh, it’s good. You can feel every inch of him, stretching you from the inside out. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s definitely a little uncomfortable at first. Only for a few thrusts, though, and then you’re overwhelmed with the feeling of being completely full. He couldn’t get any deeper if he tried.

And, fuck, does he try.

He’s merciless, using his hand on your mouth to pull you back onto him, barely pulling out of you with every thrust, forcing himself as deep as he can go with every movement. You’re sobbing into his palm, practically vibrating from how much you’re shaking. It feels like you’re gonna split into two, and you’re not convinced Swansea would stop if you did.

“You cryin’, kid?” He chuckles. “Jesus. You’re sick in the head.”

Maybe you are. But if being sick in the head means you can get your guts rearranged by him more often, you’d gladly be institutionalized. It would be more than worth it.

“Are you nodding?” It’s said in genuine disbelief. “You’re fucked up, kid.”

Swansea feels like he’s gonna come, but he can’t until you do. You came to him for help - What kind of mentor would he be if he used you to get himself off without at least fulfilling your request first? He reaches a hand under you to clumsily rub your clit, slipping all over the place from how wet you’ve gotten. You bite the side of his hand to shut yourself up, earning a little chuckle from him. 

“You’re squeezin’ me again,” He grumbles, hooking a finger in your mouth for you to bite instead. “Gonna come? Finally?”

Your answer comes in the form of an orgasm. You pulse around him, squirming away from his unforgiving finger and even less forgiving dick. He’s not having it, leaning over your back to keep you in place.

“Just hold still, Jesus Christ,” He huffs into your ear, thrusts starting to get sloppy. “You got what you wanted, kid. Just hold on for another damn second.”

It’s a terrible idea to finish inside you. He might’ve done it if you guys would be back on Earth nine months from now, but you’ve still got a year left on the Tulpar. The last thing any of you need is to deal with a newborn in space.

Instead, he pulls out a little early. “Bring your mouth down here.”

You can barely force your muscles to work, but you manage. You flop onto the floor in front of him, mouth wide open and tongue eagerly stuck out. Your eyes are closed and your chest is heaving. Poor thing. You’re exhausted.

Not too exhausted to swallow some cum, though.

Swansea taps his tip on your tongue as he finishes, groaning as he watches the white ropes shoot down your throat and all over your tongue. He almost comes again, honest to God. 

“Swallow.” He forces your mouth shut and gives your jaw a little tap. 

“He’s just so sweet,” You complain, taking up the entirety of the couch. “So sweet! I can’t tell him that he’s - Bye, mom! Can you get me something? Thank you! - I can’t tell him that he’s, like, the actual worst in bed. It’d break his heart.”

Swansea clears his throat, standing with his arms crossed in front of the couch. You wave him off.

Oh, hell no.

He rips the phone out of your hand, hangs up the group call you’re in with three of your friends, and tosses it onto the loveseat.

“Daddy!” You pout. “Why’d you do that?”

“Game’s on.” Swansea grunts, impatiently waiting for you to move. Which you don’t do.

He’s had enough of your bratty, entitled attitude. He grabs your ankles and forcibly moves your legs out of the way, pushing them up until your knees touch your chest and- 

Oh, you’re not wearing pants. How did he not notice that?’

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He drops your ankles like they’ve seared his palms, turning his face away in disgust. “Put some clothes on.”

That only makes you pout harder. “Why?”

“‘Cause you shouldn’t be wearing a thong around an old man.”

He turns his head back to you. Your legs are still folded up, showing off your pretty pink thong. He can see the curves of your cunt through the thin fabric. Not that he’s looking.

“You’re not an old man, you’re my stepdad.” You roll your eyes at him, hugging your knees.

“I can be both,” Swansea is really trying not to look at your pussy. Bless his heart. “I don’t want to see you walking around with your pussy out. Save that bullshit for your boyfriend.”

“Daddy, you know I don’t like you talking about him.”

“This is my fuckin’ house, I can talk about whoever I want to,” He reaches over and pinches your calf. “He’s a fuckin’ loser anyways.”

“He’s not a loser.” You kick him. He catches your ankle, tightening his grip until you whine.

“Sure sounds like one to me,” He pushes your leg back at you. “Can’t even get his girl off.”

You blush, kicking at him again, using both legs this time. Swansea huffs, getting up on one knee on the couch. He pins your knees down to your sides.

“Daddy-”

“Stop callin’ me that,” He pushes your legs down harder. “I’m not your fuckin’ daddy.”

“Yes, you are…” You whine, squirming. He’s not having that. He brings his other knee up on the couch and holds your thighs down with his hips, using his hands to hold down your shoulders, keeping you completely still aside from your arching back.

“Such a fuckin’ brat…” He grumbles, squinting down at you. “If I’m your daddy, why don’t you ever listen to me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek petulantly. “‘Cause I don’t wanna.”

“Bitch,” Swansea grabs your chin, pinching your cheeks together and making your lips pucker like a fish. “Just like your mother. Y’never shut the hell up.”

“Make me.” You say back, muffled by his grip.

“Oh, you mother-” He pulls you upright by your face. His jaw is clenched tight - You’re sure he’ll be complaining of a headache later. 

Swansea is very strong. You’ve never noticed it before, because you were way too old to play around and wrestle with him when he joined your family. Now, it’s glaringly obvious how strong he is. He shoves you off the couch and onto your knees.

“Daddy-”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growls, undoing his belt and unzipping his fly. 

Swansea thinks you must be really fucked up, huh? Your stepdad is about to force your mouth on his cock, and you don’t so much as try to argue. You even look a little excited. Then again, Swansea must be pretty fucked up too. He’s the one about to abuse the throat of his stepdaughter. And he’s admittedly a little excited too.

He’s hard. And he’s big. No wonder your mom married him.

“Open up.” He demands, tapping your cheek until you obey. Swansea’s hand buries in your hair, not giving you a second before shoving your mouth down onto his dick. He groans, letting his muscles relax a little now that he knows you can’t complain anymore. “That’s it… You suck your boyfriend’s cock this good?”

You make a sound, which only prompts him to force himself deeper down your throat. He feels your muscles constrict around him as you gag, your hands coming up to his thighs to brace yourself, and it really gets him going. He holds you in place as he bucks his hips up off the couch, fucking up into your warm mouth, never giving you a moment of peace. Every gag and whine only spurs him on more, closing his eyes and losing himself in the sensations.

When he opens his eyes again, you’re looking up at him. Your eyes are all teary and your nose is starting to run. The sight makes him push your head down until your nose is buried in his unkempt pubes. He humps into your mouth until he feels his balls tighten. It’s only a few more thrusts before he comes down your throat.

“Ah… Shit…” Swansea pulls your hair to get you off of him, finally letting you catch your breath. “Swallow it.” You do so without complaint.

“Daddy…” You pout, wiping spit off your chin. “My throat hurts now.”

“Jesus Christ, you never stop complaining, do you?”

You shake your head.

“If I get you off, will you let me watch the game in peace?”

It takes you a second to answer, chewing on your bottom lip as you think it over. “Mhm…” “Alright,” He pats his thighs with a heavy sigh. “Get up here, then.”

With an excited little giggle, you climb up into your stepdad’s lap, straddling his thick legs. 

Your thong is easy to move out of the way, though it sticks to your cunt from how wet you are. Unfortunately, it makes Swansea groan.

“All this for your daddy, huh?” He whispers, dragging two calloused fingers through all the slickness you accumulated while he fucked your face. “D’you get this soaked for your boyfriend?”

You pout again at the mention of him. And yet you answer. “No, Daddy…”

“Only for Daddy, then, huh?” He smirks, briefly circling your clit with his middle finger. You shiver and he stops, moving his finger down and prodding at your entrance. 

You’re way too fucking tight for how wet you are. Maybe that’s just how young pussy is - It’s been a long time since Swansea’s touched anyone’s but your mom’s, and even then, they’ve been in a dry spell for months. 

“Christ almighty…” He struggles to fit just his middle finger. In your vagina’s defense, he has very thick hands. Very thick.

Your mouth drops open, hole fluttering around his single finger. “Daddy…”

“Shh, I know,” Swansea pumps his finger in and out slowly, hooking it up towards that spongy area inside you. “Does your boyfriend ever finger you? Or does he just get his dick wet?”

You can barely form a response. “He tries… Sometimes…”

“Does it make you feel this good?” He murmurs as he pulls his finger out just to force a second one inside with it. You dig your nails into his meaty upper arm.

“N-No… Daddy…"

“Didn’t think so.” He grunts, holding you still with a strong hand on your hip, the fingers inside you setting a merciless pace of pumping and curling. He’s getting reactions out of you that he hasn’t gotten from a woman in a long, long time. You’re squeaking and mewling and you’re the first woman who’s ever called him daddy like this before - He can’t say he minds it.

If he makes you finish, this could all be over. You could disappear up to your bedroom and he could watch football to his heart’s content and none of this would ever be mentioned again.

But there’s something about the way you start grinding your clit against his palm that makes him want this to last just a little longer.

He pulls his fingers out of you right when you start to tremble. You immediately begin to curse him out, but all it takes is a stern look to shut you up.

“Sweetie,” He’s never called you that before. “You know where my condoms are?”

You shouldn’t, but he knows you do. He knows you’ve been stealing them from the master bedroom instead of having your boyfriend bring his own.

“Mhm…” You’re breathing heavily, frustrated from being edged.

“Go and grab one, ‘kay?”

You don’t need to be told twice. You scamper up the stairs and Swansea can hear his bedroom door creak open - Damn, he needs to lubricate those hinges. Swansea is already hard again, a feat he hasn’t accomplished since he was a much younger man, but he strokes himself a couple of times to make sure he stays that way while he waits for you to return. He’s surprised by how sensitive he is now.

You’re ripping the little golden square open as you hop off the last step, rushing back over to the couch. You hand the latex to him and set the torn wrapper down on the ottoman. 

He was going to have you bounce on him for a bit, but you get on your elbows and knees next to him and wiggle your ass invitingly. Who is he to deny such a request?

With a smack to your ass that makes you giggle breathlessly, he starts lining himself up with your leaking cunt. Just the feeling of the tip of his thick cock pushing inside you makes you cry out. Swansea pushes his hand onto the back of your head and forces your face down into the cushion, grumbling a warning to shut up.

He pushes into you slowly - He’s mean, yes, but he’s not cruel. He knows he’s a lot to take, and the very last thing he wants is for you to tap out before he’s even started.

“How big is your boyfriend?” He asks cockily, hooking an arm under your stomach. He pulls you up until your upper back is against his chest, arched at an awkward angle. 

Your hair is in your face and you’re squeaking with every added inch he fills you with. 

“N-Not as big as you, Daddy…”

“Yeah, that’s right,” He groans, wrapping his hand around your throat to keep you upright as he finally bottoms out inside you. “Bet you’re feeling all kinds of stuff you don’t feel with him.”

You moan loudly, too loudly, but Swansea doesn’t try to mute you this time. He kisses your shoulder as he starts to thrust into you, barely pulling out before filling you back up.

It’s good. Oh, it’s good. But it’s not good enough. 

“Sweetie,” He kisses up the side of your neck until he can bite your earlobe. “You feelin’ much?”

You are, but you figure there’s gotta be a reason he’s asking, so you shake your head.

You regret it when you feel him pull out, leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing.

“Hold on,” He keeps his hand on your neck, but the one around your waist disappears. You don’t know what he’s doing until you hear a snap of latex, and then he’s shoving your face back down into the cushion as he harshly fucks back into you.

He took the condom off.

You cry out for him again, babbling Daddy and simultaneous pleading to both slow down and don’t stop. Swansea just ignores you, driving himself into that spongy spot over and over again, rubbing up against it as he pushes himself up to your cervix. He repeats it with every thrust, feeling his thighs burn and sweat bead on his eyebrows, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He has to show you that a real man is gonna make you come on his cock. That your boyfriend isn’t worth jack shit and your daddy is always gonna treat you better.

“God, you feel so fuckin’ good,” Swansea grips your hips bruisingly tight, hammering into you again and again. “Bet you don’t let your boyfriend fuck you raw, d’you?”

You shake your head as much as you can manage. “No, Daddy…”

“That’s a good girl,” He smacks your ass again, digging his blunt nails into your skin, kneading handfuls of your ass. “Save the raw dogging for your daddy, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah…” You mewl, grabbing anywhere you can reach to try to ground yourself. 

It doesn’t do much when Swansea is ramming you like he is, fucking your body further and further up the cushions until your head is hitting the arm of the couch with every thrust. He puts one of his hands down on the top of your head to protect your skull, laughing at your helplessness.

“Shit… Your pussy is sure as hell better than your mom’s…” He bites down on his lip. He’s sensitive like he hasn’t been since he lost his virginity. “Where should I come, huh? Inside you?”

You whimper.

“Just kiddin’,” He laughs at you, the hand not on your head sneaking around to roughly rub your clit. On the way there, he snaps your thong against your ass. “Maybe I’ll just come on this pretty clit, huh? Put this little thong back on and see how long y’can keep my cum in there, yeah? S’that sound like a good idea, sweetie?”

You don’t respond, but he doesn’t really expect you to. You’re getting awfully tight. He knows you’re close, so he gives your clit a mean little pinch.

“Y’gonna come on your daddy’s cock, sweetie?” He mocks, rolling his dick into your G-spot. 

You make a noise akin to a sob, your back arching and your thighs starting to shake. Swansea leans down to kiss your back as you come, cooing and shushing your cries. 

“Alright, Daddy’s almost done, ‘kay?” He grunts, shutting his eyes so he can focus on himself. “Just another minute…”

You’re writhing, trembling hands trying halfheartedly to push his hips away, to make him let up. It’s pointless. Swansea doesn’t go as deep for the last few thrusts, focusing more on his tip and groaning loudly at the way your warm, fluttering cunt squeezes him. 

He pulls out at the last second, coming on your clit and all over your vulva. He gives your pussy a love tap and pulls your panties back into place. 

“Tongue,” He holds his hand in front of your mouth, feeling his soft cock twitch as you eagerly lick the cum off of his fingers. “There we go. Good girl, yeah?”

You nod, smiling, looking all satisfied. Swansea feels a sick sense of pride.

“Don’t tell your mom about this.” He pulls his pants up.

“Won’t…” You mumble, drooling into the cushions.

Swansea grabs the TV remote to turn on the football game. “And next time that little boyfriend of yours doesn’t get you off, you can always bring that pussy back to Daddy.”

Really, really helps, apparently. He’s already leaking precum when he gets his dick free, smearing a glob on the inside of his boxers. He shudders and curses under his breath, wrapping a shaky hand around his throbbing cock.

“Fuuck…” He groans, holding the magazine tightly enough that it bends in around his fingers. “Y/N…”

He bites down on his lip. He can’t be making any noises right now. His quarters don’t have a lock. The very last thing he needs right now is someone walking in - Especially you. If you heard him saying your name while he jerks off, you would not only hate him, but you could report him! His career would be over before it even began, and he’d be outcast on the Tulpar for the rest of the mission. Even Jimmy would hate him.

Daisuke lets his eyes shut so his imagination can take over. The model who looks like you is posed with her legs spread, her underwear covering her vulva but her tits out, ripe for viewing. He tries to imagine you sitting in front of him like that, your perfect boobs and your warm pussy just inches away, on display just for him. He would bury his nose in that thin, damp cotton and just breathe you in for as long as you’d let him. He would pull the fabric aside with his teeth and lick your slick away until it’s all replaced with his saliva. 

If you’d let him, he would fuck you. Oh, he would fuck you. He hasn’t had sex in a couple years, but he thinks about it constantly, especially since he boarded the Tulpar. It’s been torture being trapped in space with no privacy and no material. This magazine was supposed to be his saving grace, but it’s just not doing it for him.

Imagination just isn’t enough for him. He needs some porn or something, something where the plot is already there for him to enjoy. He’s not good at coming up with it on his own! 

He huffs out a frustrated breath. This is so not fair. He’s basically still a teenage boy, he shouldn’t be subjected to this kind of torment. It’s painful, truly painful. 

He tries to stroke faster, squeeze harder, fuck up into his own fist. It doesn’t do much. He just needs something more.

“Daisuke?” A voice calls from the hall. There’s only two women on board, and that’s definitely not Anya’s voice. Daisuke’s eyes go wide with panic. He crumples the magazine in his hand and tries to pull his pants up as quickly as he can.

He’s not fast enough.

“Daisu- Oh! There you are, I’ve been looking for you!” You only spot his face at first. His guilty, flushed face. That expression makes you look him over, from head to toe. “Oh.”

He swallows, trying to subtly cover his unzipped fly with his forearm. “Hi. Hello. You were looking for me?”

“Uh-huh…” You narrow your eyes, unconvinced by his innocent act. “Yeah, I was… What’re you up to?”

“Um,” He looks around aimlessly. “Nothing.”

“Right.” You step into the room and close the door behind you. Daisuke tenses. His dick twitches in his pants. “Nothing.”

He nods weakly, his eyes locked on you as you walk closer. And closer. And then you’re right in front of him, cocking your head to the side as if you already know everything he was doing.

“Nothing,” You move his arm out of the way, planting a knee down between his thighs on the creaky mattress. He tries to move it back, cover up the tent in his pants, hide the evidence, but you don’t let him. “You weren’t doing something dirty, were you?”

He lets out a shallow little breath, a failed attempt at a laugh. “N-No. Of course not.”

You move your knee higher up between his legs, letting it press against his bulge.

“You sure?”

He whimpers. Truly fucking whimpers. It’s pathetic and guilty and so inviting. 

“Thought so…” You murmur, grinding your knee into his clothed cock, watching the way he starts to squirm. “Did I interrupt?”

“I wasn’t…” He tries to deny it - It’s a real, honest attempt - But it’s no use. You know. “Yes…”

“Oh, you poor thing,” You coo, resting your hand on his cheek. He leans into your palm like a cat. “Were you close?”

He shakes his head. “No… Can’t do it…”

You smirk, tilting his head down so he’s watching you knee his dick. You press your forehead into his so you can watch as well. “Aw, you can’t? Do you need some help?”

His groan is more than enough of an answer. He looks up at you, his head still tilted down. It’s the prettiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Please.”

It’s the prettiest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. 

Your hand wraps around his throat, squeezing gently at the sides. You can tell by the way his lips part and his eyes unfocus that he likes the feeling. 

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” You whisper, moving your other hand down to his pants. You only have to pop open the button and tug the denim down. He’s straining in his boxers and started soaking through the fabric. 

But you don’t take his dick out. Instead, you start to take your own pants off. Daisuke is half expecting (and hoping) you’re wearing a strap-on or something - The way you take control is making him think of things he’s never considered before. If he was gonna let anyone peg him, it would be you. 

But there’s no silicone instrument under your pants. Just a pair of blue underwear, which is even better right now. Daisuke wants to lick you.

And then your underwear is on the ground and Daisuke really wants to lick you.

“Y/N.” He mumbles, his eyes locked on to what he can see of your cunt. He feels spit pooling in his mouth. If he opens it again, he’s sure he’ll drool.

“Daisuke,” You climb onto the bed on your knees and slowly push him down onto his back. “Are you gonna be a good boy? Gonna lick my pussy?”

Oh, fuck. He whines, shifting impatiently on the bed. His hands have a mind of their own. They find the back of your thighs - God, your thighs - And urge you up towards his face.

“Sit on my face,” He pleads softly, feeling desperate. He’s never felt so foggy before. All he wants is to taste you, feel your thighs around his head, breathe you in. “Please.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, holding his head in the right position. You slowly crawl up towards his head, setting your knees on the shitty mattress on either side of it. You don’t sit down just yet.

“Make me come,” You tell him, no room for disagreement. Not that he would ever dare to pass up an opportunity like this. “If you don’t, we’re never doing this again.”

He tries to lick you, lifting himself up as much as he can before you pull his hair and guide him back to how you want him. 

“Did you hear me?” You sound stricter this time. 

“Yes, yes…” Daisuke shuts his eyes, frustrated. “I’ll be good, I’ll make you come. I’ll be a good boy.”

“Mm… that’s what I like to hear.” You purr, slowly lowering yourself down onto his face.

His mouth is ready. He’s licking messy stripes up your cunt before you’re even down all the way. The round tip of his nose bumps your clit. You can tell he’s going on passion alone, but it makes you feel good, much better than you were expecting.

You don’t tell him that, though.

“C’mon,” You chastise, voice breathless. “I know you can do better than that.”

He whines into your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue across it until you moan. He’s proud of himself for getting that reaction out of you, laving his tongue down your folds until he’s at your hole. He pushes his tongue past the pulsing muscle, his eyes rolling back as he gets a good taste of you. You’re heady and sweet and so fucking delicious.

“That’s it…” You tighten your grip on his hair, absentmindedly rolling your hips against his face. “Good boy.”

Fuck, that gets to him. He feels his hips buck up off the bed, his cock twitching, achy and leaking. 

He could stay between your legs forever, lapping up your juices and nuzzling your clit for hours on end. If you’d let him. Maybe you would. You are letting him do this, after all.

All of his focus is on making you come. He’s never made a girl finish before, admittedly. Not for lack of trying, but simply lack of skill. But he feels confident this time. What he lacks in skill he makes up for in sheer need.

He wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling you further down onto his face. He can barely breathe, but he doesn’t need to breathe. He needs to get you off. Needs to prove to you that he deserves your attention, your touch. That you should let him do this again - Everyday, if he can.

It’s actually embarrassing how quickly Daisuke gets you off. It feels like almost no time has passed when your legs start to shake, your back arches, and your thighs tighten around his head. He makes a noise, a high-pitched keen, almost a squeal, but you barely even notice it as you come. You gush onto his tongue, into his mouth. He’s squirming under you, lapping your wetness up and kissing your damp skin as much as he can. 

You lift yourself up onto shaky legs, holding the headboard to keep yourself upright. Daisuke is panting under you, trembling even more than you are.

“Did you come?” He whispers, looking up at you pleadingly, his pretty eyes genuinely worried that he failed.

“Mhm,” You brush his hair out of his face. “You did… so good, honey…”

“Tell me I’m a good boy…” He licks his lips, and then around them, trying to get his tongue to reach his chin and nose. 

“You’re a very good boy,” You coo, wiping your slick off of his face with your thumb. He eagerly sucks your thumb into his mouth. “A very good fucking boy… Jesus…”

You sink back onto your butt, trying to catch your breath. It’s then that you let your eyes drift down to his boxers.

His soaked boxers. 

You push your palm down, feeling the cum stick to his dick under the fabric. He twitches and gasps, sitting up onto his elbows.

“Oh, honey,” You purr, smearing his cum around in his boxers, ruining the cotton and coating his cock in his release. He’s not fucking real. He came from eating you out. “You’re fucking perfect.”

He mewls, his legs squeezing together and bending at the knee, trying to push your hand away from his sensitive bulge. “Y/N…”

“Alright, alright,” You smile, taking your hand off of his boxers. You give his thigh a comforting squeeze and feel him relax under your touch. “Next time.”

Maybe Daisuke won’t have to worry about being pent up anymore.

Rafe is in a similar and yet very different situation. He has a pretty girl, he thinks she might be in a sorority but he’s not sure, dancing and giggling all over him. But he’s only looking at you, his eyes squinted in your direction as he tries to make his inebriated brain remember where he’s seen your face before. Your pretty, bored face. 

You look so clean, even though your eyes are rolling and you’re taking the vodka in your cup like a pro. Rafe would’ve loved to just fuck the girl dancing on him, kick her out in the morning, and move on with his life. Instead, he finds himself walking over to you.

Elijah or Joseph fucks off pretty quickly when he sees Rafe approaching. Maybe he thinks you’re one of Rafe’s many hookups or his sister or maybe he’s just really scared of Rafe. You don’t know. You don’t know if you should be grateful that Gabriel or Jeremiah is gone or if you should be annoyed that Rafe has replaced him.

“Haven’t seen you before.” He murmurs, his hand finding your hip like you’re his girlfriend or something. Pulling away is an impossible task - He just keeps grabbing you again. 

“You have,” You turn your head away when he leans down to kiss your jaw. What the fuck is he trying to do? Is this how he greets people? “We’re in the same philosophy class.”

“Mm… Pretty sure I’d recognize such a pretty face.” His eyes flick from feature to feature, roving over your face with a sense of familiarity. You roll your eyes again, and that only makes it worse. Both his groping and the look in his eyes. One hand grabs your ass. “And such a nice ass.”

Oh, this brings you back, doesn’t it? It’s just like senior year prom! Except instead of your boyfriend, it’s some random frat boy. And instead of telling him to keep his hands to himself, you’re starting to enjoy the touch.

“Y/N.” You tell him, wondering if he knows your name from class or just truly doesn’t recognize a thing about you. 

Oh. You see the recognition in his eyes.

“Y/N.” He echoes, smiling like you’re an old friend. He grabs a handful of your tits.

“Hey,” You flush, trying halfheartedly to squirm away from him. It only makes him more encouraged, big hands grabbing and squishing flesh like he owns it. He’d like to.

“Philosophy, huh?” He kisses your earlobe, catching the golden earring between his teeth for just a second. “Pointless fuckin’ class. Hate the professor.”

Your disagreement is met only with featherlight kisses along your jaw. He keeps it up until your words fade into breathless babbling, and then he pushes his hand into your hair and forces you to look up at him.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Y/N.” He bites your cheek until you flinch away, an evil little chuckle following right after. He gets the feeling, just by looking at you, that no one’s ever done this to you before. It makes a twisted, predatory sense of enjoyment flood his system. “You wanna leave?”

You’re not sure if he means leave with him or leave him, but you nod anyway. 

“If I give you a headstart,” A bite on your jaw. “How far do you think you could get?”

It’s a difficult question to answer. If you’re running, you could make it to your dorm. If you’re walking, waiting to get caught, you’re not sure you could make it around the corner. 

“Not far.” You whimper, sighing as he bites down harshly on your neck, smoothing his tongue over the sore skin right after. 

“Good,” It’s more a purr than a word. “How’s ten seconds sound? Fair?”

You get the feeling you’re not supposed to answer. Instead, you take a deep breath and pull away from him. You don’t look back, wading your way through the crowd and counting under your breath so you know how much time you have left.

At four seconds, you open the door.

At seven, you make it outside. 

At ten, you’ve barely made it down the stairs.

Being out on campus at night has always freaked you out. You’ve watched one too many Dateline episodes to leave yourself so vulnerable like this - Drunk, half-naked, not looking behind you. 

You’re still counting even though your headstart is over. It’s twenty seconds when you duck behind the fraternity building, breathing hard and fast and holding a hand over your heart. You feel like an antelope, a lion hot on your tail, his claws on your legs, his hot breath on your skin. Your nervous system apparently can’t tell this is a voluntary chase. Your palms are sweaty, you’re shaking, your heart is racing. Your eyes shut and you try to calm down.

And then someone grabs your upper arms, holding them bruisingly tight.

“Found you…” Rafe whispers, his mouth back on your neck like no time has passed. Barely any has. 

You gasp and instinctively try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t give you an inch. He pulls your hair to line your lips up with his, and then he kisses you. Harder, rougher, than you’ve ever been kissed. He kisses with expertise, but that doesn’t surprise you - What does surprise you is the way he finds pleasure in your clumsiness. He groans when your teeth brush his lips. His hips jerk when you tilt your head the wrong way. 

His hand absentmindedly wraps around your throat, squeezing in a pulsing rhythm that makes your head feel fuzzy. Rafe’s cock twitches in his pants when you squeak, your jaw dropping open uselessly. He stops kissing your lips, pulling back to admire the face you’re making as he chokes you.

“Oh, that’s it,” He growls, roughly pushing you up against the wall behind you. He keeps you there by your throat and by a thigh that he slots between yours. His free hand pushes your dress up until it bunches around your hips. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl…”

“Rafe…” You whine, squirming and rubbing yourself against his knee.

The hand on your throat squeezes one more time before it moves up to press against your mouth, his salty palm keeping you from making any more noise.

“Shut up.” He’s undoing his belt with one hand. It makes your pulse spike. 

He catches himself, leaving his belt in the loops. His hand moves to your panties, lacy and white, warm and wet. He presses the pad of his middle finger into the damp cotton, slowly dragging it back and forth.

The helplessness you feel is strangely pleasurable. You can’t do anything but squirm, whimper muffled little cries into his palm, and dig your nails into his biceps. They flex under your hands.

“Shh,” He growls again, pressing his thigh into yours to keep you still. “Hold still.”

There’s nothing you can do but comply, your eyes fluttering shut with reluctant obedience. He takes it as a sign that you’re more than ready for more, pulling your sticky panties out of the way with his thumb. His middle finger collects your wetness, spreading it up towards your clit, parting your lips to make space for his ring finger.

“Think we can start with two?” You can’t answer. Even if you could, he wouldn’t take a no. He coats his fingers in your slickness and prods at your hole. “She gonna let me in?”

Oh, yeah, she is. It’s a stretch for you and a fight for him, but he pushes them both in. His fingers are almost uncomfortably thick, much thicker than yours. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groans as if it’s his cock inside you and not his fingers, panting as he scissors you open. He pumps them into you, hooking them to nudge against that spongy spot inside you. Your knees go weak. “There we go…” 

You’re practically squealing as he begins repeating the same movement - You’ve never made a sound like this before in your life. It’s embarrassing and makes your face feel hot, but it’s nothing compared to the heat pooling in your stomach. It’s almost nauseating how tightly your stomach has knotted itself. 

More wet gushes onto his fingers as you clench around them. 

“Mm… Y’like this, huh?” Rafe attaches his lips to your neck, ducking his head under his arm to reach your skin. He doesn’t need, or want, a response from you. He’s more than happy to keep talking to himself. “So wet… S’all this for me?” 

You’ve never been fingered before. You almost let a boyfriend do it once, but you chickened out. The most you’ve ever had inside of you is your own fingers and, only a few times, the handle of a hairbrush. Neither of those can compare to this - It’s like Rafe can see straight through your skin and see your G-spot. 

“Ah, ah… there it is…” He coos, holding you up as you thrash, your back arching and legs trembling with an orgasm. It’s difficult for you to make yourself come, but here he is, doing it like it’s nothing. “That’s my girl…”

You shakily push his hand away when the overstimulation starts to hit you. He laughs and catches your wrist, his other hand releasing your mouth to grab the other one. 

“Rafe-”

“Shut up,” He puts both your wrists into his left hand, his right one coming up to your mouth. His middle and ring fingers push past your lips. “There we go. Clean ‘em for me, Y/N.”

Yeah, that shuts you up. You close your eyes and suck on his fingers, tasting yourself and his salty skin.

“Good girl.” He pulls them out of your mouth, wipes the spit off on your dress, and finally pulls his belt from its loops.

You squirm. “I-I don’t know if-”

“If what?” He asks as if he didn’t interrupt you. He drops his belt onto the ground and pops open the button on his jeans. “If this is a good idea? If you can take it? Too fuckin’ bad.”

That shuts you up again. But it’s not like you really want to complain anyway.

“I’m a virgin.” You whisper, instead. That catches him off guard. His head falls forward and he has to support himself by putting a hand on the wall.

“Shit, you are?”

“Mhm…”

He groans. “Shit… Fuck… Oh, I’m gonna ruin you…”

Maybe he is. He collects himself and turns you around, using his hand as a barrier so he’s not shoving your cheek into the wall. Your dress is already hiked up and you’re plenty wet, so nothing is stopping him from pushing into you once he’s lined up. 

Just the tip, at first. “Fuckin’ virgin pussy… Jesus Christ…” 

You gasp. He pushes in further, breathing down the back of your neck. Your back is at an awkward angle, everything vertical until your ass, which is pushed out for him. He’s big, definitely bigger than the handle of any hairbrush you’ve ever seen. Even your orgasm wasn’t quite enough to prepare you for it all.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” Rafe growls into your hair, pressing himself further into you. “It’s insane… Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight…”

“Rafe…” You pant, pussy pulsing around his cock.

“Oh, shush, baby,” He suddenly thrusts all the way in, shuddering as you cry out. “You’re so fuckin’ dramatic… It feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod mindlessly, mouth hanging open and legs shaking. You’d be on the ground if he wasn’t holding you up. 

“Thought so…” He smirks, biting down where your neck and shoulder meet. He only bites harder when you try to pull away, using your shoulder to keep himself quiet as he sets his pace, only pulling out halfway before thrusting back in. “Y’feel too good, baby… I can’t even pull out all the way…”

“Rafe…” You whine.

“Shhh…” He pushes his fingers into your mouth again. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum in you, ‘kay, babe?” 

You give a halfhearted attempt at a disagreement, only because it’s the sensible thing to do. No one would say yes to that without a little fight, right? He shoves his fingers further down your throat until you gag. 

“I thought you’d say yes,” He murmurs before biting your shoulder again. He speeds himself up, humping into your pussy instead of giving proper thrusts. “Gonna get this virgin pussy filled with cum, aren’t you?”

You moan around his fingers. His hips stutter.

“Yeah, you are…” He kisses the teeth-shaped indents on your skin. 

He moves his free hand down to your hip, digging his nails into your skin and holding you in place as he fucks you. He already made you come, and he’s feeling a little selfish at the moment, so he uses you solely to get himself off, rambling in your ear about how good your pussy is, how pretty you are, how warm your mouth feels around his fingers. Your eyes are filled with tears, your body trembling on the brink of an orgasm, when he comes.

His jaw goes slack and his fingers press down onto your tongue, holding you tightly against him as he fucks his cum deeper inside you, flooding your cunt with his warmth. 

Just the thought of him filling you with cum makes you shudder, let alone the actual feeling of it. You clench around his cock as you tip over the edge again, sobbing around his fingers. You try to push his slowing hips away when you come down.

“Hold on, I’m gettin’ there,” He huffs, pushing your hands away. He slows to a stop and carefully pulls out, quickly putting your panties back into place to catch any cum that might bubble out of your hole. He pulls your dress down and gives your ass a finishing tap. “There we go.”

You press your palms into the wall to hold yourself up as he takes a step back, pulling his pants up from his ankles and grabbing his belt off the pavement.

“You feelin’ alright?” He places a hand on your shoulder blade once he’s put himself back together. “Need help gettin’ home?”

You look up at him. A complete mess. You’re trembling, your hair is disheveled, your mascara is smeared under your eyes. You nod.

Rafe’s gonna have to make use of you again. He loves philosophy.