liquidstarwrites

[liquidstarwrites]

Me: hey, you know that free time you have, it’d be great if you used some of it to write.

My brain: no, no writing. Only thinking about how we could be writing.

[liquidstarwrites]

Seventeen minutes, thirty seven seconds.  That was how much time they had until someone would notice they were missing.  It was the amount of time that was acceptable for a lady to spend powdering her nose or whatever it was ladies did in the toilets.  She wouldn’t know, as she preferred to spend that time fucking her boyfriend.  A particularly violent thrust sent her spiraling and she gasped, biting down hard against Tomoki’s shoulder to keep herself quiet.  His response was a low grunt and an apologetic smirk; instead of slowing down he simply adjusted his grip on her waist and kept pounding.  He was on a time limit, after all.  It was important to make the most of it.

 Something small for today.  In a Tomoki mood. 

[liquidstarwrites]

Butler Until Midnight

Blowjob drabbles?  Don’t mind if I do.

Yuma-

“Oh, look at that pretty face…”

Cheeks stained crimson, ___ glanced up at her boyfriend felt a delicious tingle of shame.  Here she was, her dress skimming the surface of the wooden floor as she knelt, mouth absolutely full of her boyfriend’s cock.  Judging by the devilish smirk on his face, Yuma was more than enjoying himself.  “What a little slut you are,” He crooned, reaching down to grasp a handful of her golden brown hair.  

She gasped as he gave a sharp tug, forcing her mouth further down around him.  He was talking too much as usual, but ____ knew how to fix that.  Breathing through her nose, she opened her throat and took him all in as deep as she could.  

The masterfully eloquent Yuma was reduced to cursing as his hips jutted forward, and she could feel him tremble under her ministrations.  A few sharp thrusts and he let out a strangled yell as he came, pumping stream after stream of hot cum down her throat.  She dutifully swallowed it all, then sat back on her butt to examine her handiwork.  

Her boyfriend was a glorious mess, face flush and skin glinting with sweat.  When their eyes met he gave a lopsided smirk and she found herself uncomfortably aware of just how wet she was.  He knew, of course. judging by the way he slid to the floor after her and knocked her on her back.  “My turn, hm?  I bet you’re soaking, princess.  Let’s find out.”

[liquidstarwrites]

Iba was no stranger to fantasies.  Having spent the first dozen or so years of his life surrounded by books, that was putting it mildly.  But his fantasies had never been like this.  She didn’t deserve this.  Not her.  

And now she’s flitting about in his chambers, humming idly to herself as she wipes down his shelves with a wet rag and Iba finds himself wondering just as idly what her face would look like if he were to slip a hand between her thighs.  Not that he could do much of anything these days with his wounds what they were; their previous battle had left him bedridden for over a week now with no one but Chizuru to tend to him.  Irony.  Was that irony?  Really it was something akin to torture.

A long strand of hair fell loose from her ponytail suddenly and the young woman huffs, lifting both arms above her head to adjust it.  The movement causes her breasts to push up against her haori and they were perfect handfuls, if he just loosened her obi it would fall down around her, smooth, white skin soft curves tight wet slit pounding deep as she cried out, clawing at his back and-

“Iba-san?”

Ripped from his thoughts, he felt the heat in his face and closes his eyes, unable to meet her gaze.  The shame is nauseating.  It would be so easy to blame it all on the arm he’d taken as his own, but Iba is far too honest for that.  The demon had simply taken the seed of what was already there and made it flourish.  

“Iba-san, you look flushed.  Do you have a fever again?”

Iba shakes his head quickly, suddenly painfully aware of just how hard he’d become and silently begs whatever gods were near that she wouldn’t notice it.  How could she?  She wasn’t like him.  “I… I’m simply tired.  I’m sorry.”

“What?!  What are you apologizing for, Iba-san?”  Kneeling down beside him, Chizuru presses a soft hand against his brow and he flinches, willing himself to keep calm.  Satisfied that his temperature was normal, she smiles and stands up,smoothing down her hakama.  “I’ll be back later then.  Please get some rest!”

As the door slides shut and he hears her footsteps padding down the hallway, the young man lets out a sigh of relief.  Maybe sleep would be a good thing after all?  A brief respite from consciousness would be a welcome reprieve at this point.  But then again…  His cock twitches beneath the blankets and Iba curses, resigned to his own personal hell.