#steely dan

Joseph Joestar

Joseph leaned back against the headboard, sweat at his temples, hair sticking ever so slightly to his forehead. His shirt's somewhere on the floor, his chest rising slow as he watches you climb back into his lap, already flushed from everything he's done to you so far. "My girl's still got more in her?" he teases, voice low and smug. But the way his thigh shifts beneath you says he's ready to give you exactly what you need. "C'mon then. Use me. Have at it."

You brace your hands on his shoulders, trying to find a rhythm that doesn't drive you straight off the edge, but he's not making it easy. Every time you rock down, he flexes just right, dragging a stuttering moan from you that has him grinning like the bastard he is. "You hear that?" he murmurs, palms spreading across your ass, guiding you just a little rougher. "That's my good girl soaking my leg. You're close already, huh?" His voice dips darker. "Then show me. Cum just pretty and messy for me, just like before."

Muhammad Avdol

You're already breathless by the time you settle over his thigh again, the sheets warm beneath your knees, his body even warmer. Avdol's sitting up now, one leg bent, the other stretched out, thick and solid and perfectly still beneath you, save for the faint flex each time you grind down. His eyes don't leave yours, "You do not need to hold back with me," he says softly, voice rumbling low. "Let yourself feel everything. I will catch you if needed."

His hand cups the back of your neck, reassuring in a way that breaks you open more than any grip could. Every drag of your slick heat across his skin makes your thighs tremble, but he doesn't rush you. "That's it," he breathes, his lips brushing your temple. "You're doing so well, habibti [my dear/love]." When your pace falters, his thigh flexes, and your whole body jolts. "Again," he whispers in encouragement. "Keep going, until there's nothing left in your mind but how good you feel."

Jean Pierre Polnareff

Polnareff's still catching his breath from the round before, sweat glinting along his collarbone, silver hair mussed where you pulled at it. But the second you shift over his thigh, he perks right back up, grinning like a man who knows exactly what he's in for. "Mon dieu [My god], you're insatiable," he laughs, but his hands are already settling on your waist, thumbs pressing into your skin, unable decide whether to guide you or just watch. "You want my leg that bad, chérie [dear]? Go on then, ride it. Show me how needy you are for me."

You move slow at first, trying to stay composed, but the heat in his gaze burns right through you. "Don't play shy now," he murmurs heatedly, "I can feel how soaked you are already." His thigh flexes beneath you and your whole body jerks, your hands scrambling against his chest. "That's it. Fuck, you look gorgeous like this." One hand drifts up to cup your jaw, tipping your face to his. "You gonna fall apart on me, sweetheart?" he whispers, mouth brushing yours. "Do it, make a mess on me."

Dio Brando

Dio watches you, reclined on his throne of silk pillows, golden hair tousled, chest bare and gleaming where your nails raked over him minutes ago. When you settle on his thigh, he doesn't speak right away, just tilts his head as his eyes track every roll of your hips. "How shameless," he chuckles darkly, "Pleasuring yourself on me." His hand drapes lazily along your thigh, but the strength behind it is daunting. "Continue. I want to see how far you'll go before you break."

The tension coiling in your core grows unbearable, but Dio doesn't offer mercy. His leg flexes sharp beneath you, and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He laughs, pleased, then leans forward just enough to speak low into your ear. "You were made for this," he growls. "Look at you. Dripping, desperate, using my body like it belongs to you." His hand slides beneath your belly, not helping, just holding. "Come undone for your king. Now."

Hol Horse

Hol Horse chuckles like he's just won a bet with himself, lying half-sprawled across the bed with his hands behind his head as you straddle his thigh again. "Well I'll be," he drawls, eyes dragging slow over the mess you've already made of his skin. "Didn't even need to ask, huh? Guess I am addicting." He doesn't lift a finger to help, just watches you squirm while he watches with a lazy smirk that says he's got all night. "You look real pretty getting yourself all worked up like this," he murmurs. "Hope you know I ain't stoppin' you."

But when your hips start to stutter and your breath catches, he finally shifts, bringing his lips to your ear, "Gotta admit, I didn't peg you for the kind to lose control," he mutters, "yet here you are, all soft and wet on my leg like it's the only damn thing that'll do." One hand finally lifts, dragging up your thigh with calloused fingers. "You gonna finish, baby? Or should I make you beg for the real thing?"

Vanilla Ice

He's already seated at the foot of the bed, arms resting on his knees, hair messy from your antics. You climbed back into his lap without a word, and though his expression barely shifts, his eyes darken the second your settle yourself on his thigh. "You want more," he says flatly. His hand slides to the back of your neck, not rough, not gentle either. Just there. "Then prove it." His leg tenses beneath you, solid and sharp-edged, like he knows exactly how your body will react.

You move slowly at first, trying to keep it together, but he's watching too closely. His thigh shifts deliberately under you, and it punches a sound from your throat before you can stop it. "Tch." He clicks his tongue, voice low. "You're going to cum just from this? Hn, I should be insulted." But his grip tightens, and there's a flicker of hunger now, subtle but unmistakable. "Then again, I shouldn't be surprised..." His voice is quieter now, "You've always so depraved with me."

Steely Dan

Steely Dan laughs the second your weight settles on his thigh, "Oh, you really couldn't wait, huh?" he says, tilting his head as he watches you grind down slow. His hands stay behind him, propping him up, deliberately out of the way. "Go ahead then, babe. Show me how needy you get when I make you work for it." The flex of his thigh is timed to mock you more than help you, just enough to ruin your rhythm and make you chase it harder.

"You're doing all this just to get off on me?" he croons, eyes glittering with delight. "Kinda flattering, not gonna lie." But when your breathing gets rough and your movements start to falter, something darker creeps into his tone. "Oh no," he murmurs, sitting forward, finally letting one hand rest heavy at the base of your neck. "You don't get to fall apart yet. Not until I say so." His thigh tenses sharply, grinding up into you without warning. "You started this. Now ride it like you mean it."