#Fury and Rampage

[scribbiesan]

Day 2: Horseman

“After all these eons, I still believe in smiles behind masks and laughter behind hoods.”

@imagine-darksiders

Back at it again, had to scrap the first rendition of this prompt. I have a deep love for all the Horsemen, but Fury is surprising in the fact that she was once harsh and crude and belittling of others. And then she met humans. We know the rest.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! I got more to do, not a lotta time to do it.

Toodles!~

[arendaes]

from the micro story prompts: 48) rampage

@outeremissary thank you both for the prompt! We're back to Dance of Masks for this one, so there's spoilers in this one!

48. Rampage (Ariadne/Daeran/Woljif, 354 words)

“Must you make such a racket?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are we inconveniencing you? Might I remind you that you -”

“Enough! You do not have to make your point. Again.” Ariadne could swear she saw Razmir’s eyes narrowed to slits behind his mask, but he said nothing further as he watched her and her companions continue to tear through his palace. Tough luck - he’d offered this up as restitution, and while it might not be possible to completely dismantle the palace brick by brick, that didn’t mean they weren’t going to try.

Woljif mumbled something beside her, tossing a golden candelabra into the pile of treasure that sat in the middle of the room. He’d actually tried to remove the bricks from the walls and only had a broken dagger and several marble flakes to show for it. It had put him in quite a mood. Well, more of a mood.

Most of their other companions had dispersed throughout the palace, looking high and low for anything of value that was easy to transport back to Mendev. Besides them, only Ulbrig had remained in the great hall, not taking his eyes off Razmir and muttering under his breath about “fey tricksters” the entire time.

The sound of boots screeching across tile caught all of their attention. They turned to find Daeran rushing down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Excitement burned in his eyes, a look mirrored in Ariadne when he reached her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. Razmir wasn’t standing close enough to hear, but Ulbrig was, and he let out a hearty chuckle as they caught Woljif’s attention and all three of them hurried up the stairs and out of the hall.

“It would appear they’ve found your bedroom!” Ulbrig said when they were gone. Razmir titled his head. “Let’s put it this way - I hope you pay your cleaning staff well. And I don’t just mean because of all the mincemeat we’ve made of your followers.”

Razmir sighed. He would think twice before agreeing to another stunt like this again. The Commander had earned her reputation honestly indeed.

[hungry-hobbits]

everyone has their categories of little guys they gravitate towards but i kind of realized the one for me that has the most guys in it is probably "autistic-coded, well meaning, soft spoken christian guy" bonus points if they have a romantic (implied)/devoted relationship with another man who is more masculine than him

[zestyderg]

Some random ff doodles for today

[the-broken-truth]

Darksiders 3 - Fury With A Human Who Has Rampage's Soul [PART ONE]

Summary: As Fury heads to Ulthane's Tree to enhance her weapons, she encounters a person who possesses the soul of her deceased horse, Rampage.

[On the Way To the Maker Tree - Fury's Point Of View]

'Noooooo!'

"Mistress?"

'Rampage - Get UP!' 

"Mistress!"

That bellowing from the Watcher snapped Fury out of her mental space and turned on her heel to glare into the Watcher's Face, causing her to float back.

"As a Watcher, your role is to observe without speaking." Fury growled into her traveling companion's face, who straightened up and waved her hand around in a rather dramatic manner.

"I apologize if I'm mistaken, but I noticed that you have been standing there for a while. Is there something that may be troubling you?" The Watcher said as Fury turned away and looked up at the Maker's Tree, she had collected more 'wee-ones' for him, collected some artifacts for herself, and some material to improve her whip but for some reason - the memories of Rampage have been plaguing her mind, making her drift off into her subconscious. Fury exhaled and looked up at the Maker's Tree where Ulthane rested on the top of with all the humans she had sent to him. Fury was about to take another step with the Watcher following behind her when the snarls of demons caught her attention. She looked in the direction of the noise and saw a cluster of 5 demons surrounding a human.

The person was a [man/woman] with [length] [color] hair and [skin color] skin. Their [eye color] eyes were narrowed as they glared at the demons around them. They had a long black chain wrapped around their right forearm and held it in their hand, letting it dangle to the ground. Fury was amazed when she saw a mere mortal bravely fighting off demons with just a chain. She thought the human was putting their life in danger. However, she quickly jumped down from the cliff she was on and ran towards the scene when she saw the human's eyes turn light blue - a color she recognized well. As the human's arms and face started showing familiar runes and their hair burst into blue flames, Fury slowed down to a jog and came to a stop. She watched in awe as the chain in the human's hand also caught fire.

"Excuse me, I believe this individual may not be a typical human," informed the Watcher, her four eyes fixed on the ongoing altercation. She only noticed Fury approaching when she entered her field of vision. "Excuse me?"

Fury was amazed as she watched the human swing the chain, burning away the demons with ease. She couldn't believe what she was seeing - the flames and aura were truly incredible. Meanwhile, the human was dancing around the demons, dodging their attacks, and countering their strikes. Fury lifted her hand in disbelief, trying to process the incredible display before her.

After defeating the final demon, the human wrapped the remaining chain around their arm and closed their eyes. They breathed in deeply, absorbing the flames and runes back into their body until they returned to their normal state. When they opened their eyes, they met Fury's bright, glowing gaze.

"Are you Fury? I saw you at the top of Ulthane's Tree. Thanks to you, more humans have been visiting the Maker's Tree. I appreciate that. My name is [Name]. Nice to meet you, Fury." As [Name] extended their hand for a shake, Fury held onto their forearm instead and looked into their eyes. Fury seemed to be shedding tears.

"Rampage? Is that you?" That question caused [Name] to raise a perfect eyebrow in confusion.

"Rampage? Who the hell is that?" [Name] asked as they tried to pull their arm away out of Fury's grasp but her grip tightened and this frightened [Name]. "Hey, let me go, you're hurting me!!!" 

The person, Fury, held onto the human tightly and then let them go, causing the human to take a few steps back while holding their left hand where Fury had grabbed them, and their right hand where the chain was wrapped around. Fury remained quiet for a moment before turning to [Name] and starting to speak.

"Fury is calling you, Rampage. Let's go!" With a fierce roar, [Name] ignited a blue flame. "I was right! You have been reincarnated as a human and are now Rampage!" As Fury called out, [Name] attempted to regain control of their power but it did not respond to their efforts. With frustration, they gritted their teeth and quickly headed towards Ulthane's Tree, leaving scorch marks on the concrete with every step. Fury chased after them, pleading for them to stop.

[xsweetelegantdisasterx]

Hyperventilates in Pterodactyl

Kaisei M*F* Takechi is so soft and intense.

How someone could be fluffy and intense in the same sense is literally 🤤

The real question here is:

Are you still sleeping on my mens?

You really shouldn't. . A bed would be much more comfortable.

Today's lesson is, sleep in your 🛌 don't sleep on the Rampage.

[victorluvsalice]

-->Fortunately, chatting with the other customers went a lot better. Hell, Smiler not only managed to ring up Geoffrey Landgraab for a box of tomato sauce, they even got some money advice in the bargain (judging by the Focused moodlet they had after the interaction)! And the hits just kept on coming --

Alice finished up her workout in time to ring up Emilia Ernest, Victor’s dueling partner from the last episode, for a box of cheese (because even if she can't greet customers, she can apparently finalize sales – logic!), then – after a bathroom break – went out to have some zoomies as the Fury was starting to get a little high from her being cooped up in the break room all this time. She then returned and plopped down by one of the planters for a nap, only to be chased back inside the break room by the rain. Can't have wet werewolves stinking up the joint!

Victor sold some Playful scent to Lily Feng and a box of vegetarian MREs to Ukupanpio (one of the Sulani mermaids) before his growling stomach forced him to take a quick break, grabbing Cameron’s abandoned microwave pastry (which wasn’t great but at least filled him up), before returning to sell a Purple Parallel flower arrangement to Annette. Which I was frankly glad to see, as the flower arrangements did NOT seem to be garnering a lot of customer interest before. Come on, guys, we have so many flowers...

And Smiler, of course, was the selling MVP, ringing up Cameron Fletcher for a box of mayonnaise; Venessa for an Energizing scent; Penny for box of meat substitute; and Nalani for a box of veggie MREs! All while managing to ignore the fact that Judith Ward was visiting and the paparazzi were taking pictures of her in the bathroom. XD At least now I’m sure customers can use it! We also had Yuki yank a quill fruit out of one of the produce fridges, though the game really wasn’t fond of her doing that, spitting out an LE. I’m not sure my game likes some of Brazen Lotus’s mods, unfortunately...might need to consider a mod folder clean-up in the future...

-->Anyway – by this point, it was getting a bit late in the day, and everyone’s enthusiasm for the store was flagging. Victor took some time to magically clean the produce stands and the bathroom sink before going for a nap on the break room sofa, while Alice similarly did a little more working out, licked herself clean, then curled up on the break room floor for a snooze of her own (as her werewolf instincts were demanding another one). Smiler was still keen to talk to people, but as it was getting to be about 6:30 PM in-game, I figured it was about time they closed up and had them do just that. Final totals of the day – eleven items sold, for a total profit of $4,932! Not too shabby. AND it wasn’t quite as laggy – the game still had a nasty habit of pausing when customers grabbed items or when someone was trying to clean up out-of-stock signs, but it wasn’t NEARLY as bad as it was the last time I played the store. Seems like having less for sale did actually help in that regard, yay! :) Anyway, I was all ready to pack it up and send the trio home –

[askthedarksidersfam]

Waking up and choosing violence today 💙

[socialmediasocrates]

the endless struggle of "she's such a weird asshole i don't even like her and i wrote her" and "she's the product of a conga line of trauma and dysfunction" with the character of mayeari as i write her for fic purposes discussed under the cut broad cw for discussion of a wide range of unsavory themes including child death and the character herself having a hazy understanding of boundaries regarding physical contact (specifically non-sexual touching)

she's different in fic bc i didn't decide i wanted to do a play through with her until after i'd invented the character (maybe in hopes of working out some characterization inconsistencies) so her actual play through is uncanonical so that's a choice i made to complicate things for myself specifically

and on one hand even i sit here going "damn bitch how many times does someone have to tell you they don't like you constantly touching them before you get it" but on the other one i'm the one that gave her a backstory that made her need physical touch as a reminder that she is, in fact, a real, existing person who experiences real, actual sensations in the right now. she died as a child, and she's subsequently "lived" longer as a facsimile of a living woman than her own mother ever lived at all. sometimes i have to remind myself that my dislike of the personality i wrote her having doesn't just give me a free pass to completely flanderize the character. she's never been able to assert hard boundaries about people touching her, and she always feels like she isn't real in between physical contact with someone, so it simultaneously feels melodramatic and pointedly cruel to her when others get angry or annoyed about her touchy-feelyness. the line of thinking makes sense even if she makes me personally incredibly uncomfortable when i'm writing her

she's a ghost haunting her own body, and i have to remind myself of that like all the time

i'm planning on her being my dark urge play through and it'll be interesting to see what i can pull from that in order to round out her characterization a little more as i move forward

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, enemies-ish to lovers, sexual tension, arguments, suggestive themes, intimate touching, teasing, dirty thoughts

A/N: For @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge. I used prompts 43, 97, & 99. (I had so much fun challenging myself to do this all in one go. I set a timer and everything.)

After finding an infuriating note on your desk, you confront Simon in the communal locker room.

Part Two // Simon's POV

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

Beneath your skin is an inferno.

It’s not the kind that blazes for another, or burns in tandem with a deep yearning. This is just seething anger and blunt frustration.

You’re ready to knock out some fucking teeth.

How dare he? Who the fuck does Lieutenant Riley think he is?

When you return reports to Captain Price, you point out all the inconsistences and errors. The lack of accountability and absolute carelessness has been scratching at you for ages, and this time you had enough. Usually Price shrugs, fixes whatever you’ve marked—to a degree—and then returns them without argument.

This time? Price took one look at them and told you to talk to Simon.

Not a problem. No issue at all. You and Lieutenant Riley have always been on good terms. Sometimes, it’s been more than good. You’ve caught him staring for far too long, or he stands a bit too close as if the two of you are a couple and not coworkers. And while you’ve internalized the fantasy, it’s not like you’ve ever acted on it.

But now you’re just irritated.

You handed over the files yesterday evening, and this morning you found them back on your desk. It’s not the turnaround but Lieutenant Riley’s audacity of placing those files back on your desk with a singular sticky note.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Sweetheart. Sweetheart?

The other day you imagined what it might be like to have the burly, masked man call you a pet name, but this is just fucking condescending.

Your heels clack sharply against the linoleum floor. Perhaps it’s the rage in your face, because every person you meet on your rampage steps out of your way, their gaze averted. Rounding a corner, you exit through a side door and into one of the hangars. A few people glance up, frowning, but return to their job.

Sighing heavily, you approach the nearest person. “Where’s Lieutenant Riley?”

The young man—who looks right out recruitment—glances up. He swallows and peers over his shoulder as if he’s not sure he’s supposed to say. “Locker room, ma’am?”

“Thank you,” you reply sharply, turning on your heel and heading for another door leading to the communal gym.

“But—” he begins, stumbling to his feet as you charge on. “Ma’am! You can’t—”

The door slams shut behind you and you don’t look back.

This is one of several communal spaces. There are the usual training areas on base but there are also a few gyms for those that want to get a bit of extra work in. Every head turns toward you and many don’t look away. This one is just for the men, and you’re the odd duck.

And fuck it. You don’t care. You’re too fucking mad right now to think of anything else but giving Lieutenant Riley a piece of your goddamn mind.

With everything pumping in your veins, the reality of you storming toward the locker rooms hasn’t even dawned. Hasn’t clicked. Fury laces your every step, and even here, where you’re not supposed to be, the men in your path move as if they sense the rage.

When you burst through the door and meet a wall of steam, all the heat suddenly extinguishes. Glancing around, you’re met with wide-eyed stares and surprised expressions.

Keeping your gaze as upward as you can, you clear your throat. “Where is Lieutenant Riley?”

There is only silence. Maybe if you stare at the top of the lockers for long enough, you’ll somehow gather your courage again.

“I asked where Lieutenant—”

“I’m right here.”

You turn abruptly and freeze.

Lieutenant Simon Riley stands before you in nothing but a towel. It hangs low on his hips. Other than that, the bottom-half of his face is covered up by a black mask and his dog tags dangle from his neck. His hair is a wet, tussled mess, and his chest glistens with water like he just stepped out from the shower.

Simon simply stares at you for a moment as you stand in utter silence. His gaze, which is piercing and fierce, slides away to scan the room. He doesn’t have to say anything. The rest of the men in the room grab bags and clothes, rushing to exit through the door you just entered from.

When the last man leaves, Simon rolls his shoulders, straightening his spine. It makes him appear larger, more intimidating, and that one movement draws forth a heat in your belly. This isn’t anger. This is need.

“I know what you came here for,” he says, and it’s so casual a tone that the earlier rage comes rising up.

“I’m sure you do,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

Simon says nothing. His dark eyes remain on you, unmoving and cold, yet pinning you to the spot as if you’ve been impaled by a spear.

“Are you going to apologize?”

“Why?” he asks automatically.

You scoff. “Are you fucking serious?”

“You didn’t come here for an apology.”

You uncross your arms and hold them out in front of you, bent at the elbows. “The reports—”

“The reports are fine.”

You roll your eyes and throw your hands up in the air. “There are inconsistencies everywhere. I can’t submit them as they are.”

Simon rolls his neck and then strides forward. Instinct has you stepping back, moving away, but you bump into a row of lockers. He doesn’t stop until he’s leaning over you, one large hand pressing into the metal to the side of your head.

“You’re nitpicking,” he replies.

“About lazy writing?”

“Oh, love. I assure you. I’m thorough.” At that, Simon leans in, and your hands rise instinctually, pressing against his firm chest.

Simon’s gaze doesn’t drop from your face. His entire attention is on you and that heat is back, twisting in your stomach, stirring up a slickness between your legs.

“Lieutenant,” you breathe, wanting the need between your legs to leave but also loving how close he is.

Sure, you’re pissed off but my god. The fresh scent of him is intoxicating, and you’re doing everything in your power not to lean in and lick up the droplet of water running along the side of his throat.

“Why did you come here?” He waits a beat, and when you don’t reply, Simon continues. “To argue?” He lightly pinches your bottom chin, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip, dragging it down a bit. You open your mouth involuntarily and Simon makes at sound in his throat that makes your legs weak. “To see me?” He leans in like he’s about to kiss you. “To be alone?”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whisper.

Simon has you caged in. Pinned. The only thing separating your body and his is that towel.

“Why do you think everyone left when they did?” Simon’s thumb drops away from your lips only to press at the hollow of your throat. “It’s not because you walked in.”

“Why?” you ask, as Simon’s thumb drags lowers over your top to the space between your breasts.

“Because you’re mine. And they know it.”

“You—what?” Without anywhere to go, you can’t escape his intense stare.

“I’m staking a claim.”

“Lieutenant—”

“Simon,” he growls. “Call me Simon.”

“Simon,” you say, and he groans.

His dog tags brush against your fingers. The metal is slightly cool and damp. You curl on finger around the chain, and tug, bringing Simon’s face down to yours. If he can tease and touch, you’re going to do the same. He can’t have all the power.

Your lips brush against his through the mask, and Simon’s eyelids begin to close, revealing his gentle submission in this moment. Deepening the movement, you kiss him as if there were no barrier. This time, he truly groans, and you’d give anything to remove the barriers between you and find out what it’s like to feel him deep inside.

Fisting his dog tags in your hand, you shove him away, but only enough that there is a fraction of distance.

“Fix the fucking reports, Simon.”

Instead of kissing him again, or even touching him, you unclench your fist, releasing the dog tags. Slipping under his arm, you exit through the door and out into the gym, leaving a trail of steam in your wake.

taglist:

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@miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666

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[bapydemonprincess]

Ah perpetual “legacy mode” for the post drafts my beloathed.

[fidgetdrawgraff]

(via GIPHY)

[delirious-donna]

I Will Possess Your Heart [Nanami Kento]

an: I started thinking about Curse User!Higuruma and naturally that led to me writing... Curse User!Nanami (why am I like this?). I haven't explored this AU for him before so please be kind <3

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: dub-con (reader is willing but the warning is there so take it how you wish), Curse User AU, slight yandere behaviours, toxic traits, spanking (with open palm), unprotected sex, thoughts of baby trapping, breeding kink

Masterlist

For weeks you had been on edge. Conscious of the impossible presence that seemed to lurk in every shadowy recess, the malicious whisper of laughter on every breath of wind and the scent of someone who was long gone. Were you afraid? You should be, but you weren’t. 

In the back of your mind, if the faint traces of Cursed Energy that you sensed before disappearing as quickly as they emerged were real, it meant that he wasn’t dead, that he hadn’t been captured and executed as you had been informed.

Satoru swore he was dead, that you should put him out of your mind and move on. Especially after his betrayal, after his bloody rampage that took out more sorcerers from the three big families than any Curse User in the past twenty years. Yet, you loved him. Grew up standing right beside him until… 

Kento snapped.

You shook off the feeling of unease that had followed you around all day like a personal spectre, finally kindling the sense of security that came with approaching your apartment. It was new to you, decked out in the highest-grade security equipment that money—specifically Jujutsu High’s money—could buy.

Whilst it didn’t quite feel like home, at least you were protected. You waved at the guard posted in the entrance hall, smiling when they blushed and turned their eyes from you, a scowl creasing their brow. Shaking your head in humorous exasperation, you travelled the remaining distance to your front door with the tension of the day melting from your shoulders.

Little did you realise that the precious bubble of safety you believed yourself to be protected by was about to pop like a thorn piercing an overinflated balloon. 

Kento observed from the shadows, watching, seething. They’d moved you. Lied to you. Kept his name from caressing your tongue, and he had more than had enough. He hated the games played by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world, hated the politics and strategic alliances of the big three families which were no more than thinly veiled facades to cover the knife in the back that was around every corner. Power play far worse than the corporate drudgery he had tried to escape to, though he was ashamed to admit how long it took for him to finally open his eyes to it all.

They deserved what had transpired. He would ensure that the pain he inflicted would only be the first taste of his retribution. Hate was too emotional a word to use for those he considered to be less than human, and it was his mission to be the one to eliminate them all. Perhaps, Suguru had been right all along.

You were the exception, the one and only person he wanted to protect from the white-hot fury that poured through his veins like magma spewing from an erupting volcano, its path steady and devastating. He was still furious, and rightly so. The second you turned your face from his, he felt the last shreds of his bruised heart wither in his chest. You turned to Satoru and Shoko instead of moving towards him. You chose to remain in a world that cast him out, that actively tried to hunt and bring him down. 

He refused to believe that you had picked them over him. No. You were bewitched by the six eyes, hoodwinked by a false narrative that they were the good ones, and he was the monster. Kento couldn’t blame you, he had believed the lies for just as long and it was only now that he stood on the outside, peering in, that he could recognise the lies for what they were. 

It would be okay. He would enlighten you. After he punished you.

The front door unlocked with a quiet snick; the interior bathed in cool darkness that held no hint of the impending situation. Your fingers instinctively found the light switch, flicking it once and then twice when the bulb didn’t flare to life as it should. Click click click. Had there been a power outage? No, the neighbouring apartments were as well-lit as normal. 

Something crunched underfoot when you stepped deeper into your apartment, and that was when you realised the trap you had fallen into. Only then did your nose inhale the warm scent which had plagued you for all these long weeks, the rich aroma of expensive coffee mixed with leather and spices you couldn’t name. Only now did it intertwine with coppery, bitter notes of blood and the unforgettable reek of death. An impossibly hard body slammed into your back, sending you tumbling forward and only just catching yourself before your knees slammed into what you now knew was the broken glass of the bulb above.

The bodily contact lasted all of one second before he disappeared again. Your eyes had yet to adjust to the pure darkness that no longer felt comforting, and fear kept you from bathing yourself in the brilliance of your Cursed Energy, certain it would only help him target you all the quicker. Instead, you slapped a hand over your mouth to silence the sound of your breathing, crouching into a defensive position and fumbling forward. You weren’t as intimately familiar with the layout of this apartment as you were with the one you had lived in prior. All you could do was control the pulse of fear thrumming through your body and ignore the competing reaction that spoke of hungry anticipation. 

Kento smirked, head canting sideways whilst he watched you flail pathetically. If you wanted him dead, then he would already be a corpse on the floor, but that would never be the case, would it? His eyes had long adjusted to the absence of light, gaze following you around the room as you bumped into furniture and flinched at every touch. He could smell the terror escaping your pores. He could almost taste the frantic beat of your pulse on his tongue. Patience wasn’t a new concept to him, but right now... he found his fingers flexed deep into his thighs.

He waited until the kitchen island was at your back, stepping with silent footsteps around you and leaning back against the granite. You moved in a slow, perfect circle with your arm outstretched. Your fingertips came within an inch of grazing his abdomen, but alas, his calculations were as perfect as ever. When your back was to him once more, both arms shot out to tug you with one forceful effort into his chest. You struggled; arms pinned by your sides, but his hold was impenetrable as it always had been.

“Kento?” 

Kento laughed and even to his ear it sounded cold and devoid of emotion. “A silly question,” he answered. His voice was rough, unused for many days and the effect resulted in a ripple of something unspeakable down your spine, dripping—dripping—until you swallowed harshly and tried to twist your head around to see him.

“I think not... that luxury will be earned. I didn’t take you for such a silly girl,” Kento mocked, tightening his hold on your biceps until you squirmed in painful discomfort. “But then again, I didn’t take you for someone who would abandon me, and I was proven wrong there.”

You felt the temperature of his body skyrocket. His essence crept into you in every imaginable way, tendrils of his fiery anger licked against your bones and whilst you wanted to sob at this unexpected reunion, the rational part of your brain roared to life. He left you! He abandoned his friends and colleagues. He broke the hearts of the students who looked up to him, and yours... your heart hadn’t even begun to mend. The relief you should have felt for knowing what that poor shell of a heart had done all along, that he wasn’t dead, was a secondary reaction.

“I didn’t abandon you. How dare you say that... I thought you were dead!” 

“Did you now? I guess I should add stupid to your list of transgressions, or perhaps gullible would be more fitting. Since when did you take everything the six eyes tells you as gospel?” Kento gripped your chin with finger and thumb, the scent of his skin so close to your nose that the salty tang invaded effortlessly. With one fluid movement, he wrenched your head around and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

The action was so unexpected that you gasped into the depths of his mouth, lips parted in surprise and Kento refused to miss the opportunity to let his tongue curl past your teeth and stroke along the pink muscle he had long admired and desired above all else. He tasted like coffee, nothing to be surprised by, given his penchant for the most expensive French roast. What did blindside you, aside from the kiss itself, was the sweet caramel that chased those bitter notes. Even now, the mellow caramel burst upon your tastebuds and brought an abundance of saliva to your mouth. The kiss was heady, all teeth and tongues, until it ended abruptly, and you were shoved forward.

It was a well-aimed push to propel you over the seat of the kitchen stool, and he smiled when he heard the air knock loose from your lungs. Before you could brace your arms onto the plush leather padding and try to stand, he moved up and let his heavy palm rest at the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. “Hold onto the legs of the stool, let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”

Did you wish to redeem yourself? Did you even believe you had anything to atone for? Shockingly, your hands trailed lower until your fingers curled around the cool brushed metal. Your heart was in your throat. Tears threatened to sting your eyes but only the desire to grit your teeth and prove that you were still the woman he had once trusted above all others outweighed your loyalty to the people trying to protect you. Keeping you in the dark was no protection, it was no life to lead when the man at your back no longer looked upon you with that crinkle of warm hazel eyes that you loved.

“There’s a good girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking with the right incentive,” he cooed whilst leaning over the curve of your spine and planting one wet kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. With his lips so close to your ear, a rumble of laughter was followed by words you never dreamed of hearing from him. “Imagine how receptive you’ll be when I fit my cock in your pretty little cunt.” 

Happy with your position, and certain you weren’t going to go crashing to the floor, he let his hand loosen from your neck and traversed the path of your spine. His fingertips grazed over every bump and ridge beneath the thin material of your blouse until his palm found your backside. He pawed at you once, filling his broad hand with the meat of you and imagining himself doing this to you on both sides without the barrier of clothing in his way whilst his heavy cock sawed between the cleft of your cheeks. There would be time for that, all the time in the world if he had his way.

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the lack of light, the shapes of your apartment now visible and yet you chose to squeeze your eyes shut to it all. It heightened your remaining senses, the even breathing of your captor injected with muffled little noises of satisfaction when you complied without question. His hand rounded your hip, kneading you before searching for the button and zipper of your trousers. At that, your eyes flew open, and a startled squeak escaped your tight throat. It didn’t deter him—oh no—if anything he delighted in your reaction, slowing the descent of your zipper so that every scrape of metal against metal as the teeth released tore at your nerves until they were frayed.

“Lift,” he commanded, crouched low at your feet and tapping your ankle until you did as requested and your trousers were divested of you completely. The air-conditioning was conveniently not on, leaving your bare legs to feel prickly and clammy with the warm air permeating the room and worsened by the heat of Kento’s hands as they slid from heel to backside. 

He hummed when they reached the waistband of the black thong which did so very little to cover your modesty. You wriggled, experiencing the weight of his hungry stare and clenching your thighs together in the hopes of hiding the small yet very obvious damp spot on the cotton. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have said you were expecting my visit… you wouldn’t let anyone else see these, would you?”

Rough calluses scraped your soft derriere, toying with the fabric that disappeared between your cheeks and cupped your beautiful sex. You mewled out a ‘no’, readjusting your hold on the legs given how sweaty your palms had become and basked in the answering grunt of appreciation when your backside swayed in nothing but pure temptation. Kento wanted to rip apart the threads holding him back from you, to take out his cock that had been pulsing for release since before you even entered the apartment and force your walls to accommodate him. Fuck… he would envelop you in him—only him. 

Rub his scent right into your untainted soul until it was soiled just like he wanted. 

Paint your womb with his seed with the chance of it taking. His eyes rolled over at the thought alone.

Later.

He would see you ruined beneath him soon enough, he merely needed to get your punishment over. Kento needed to hear your apology—heartfelt and sobbed through a veil of tears. Without warning his palm reared back and with the sound of a whipcrack he brought it down against your right cheek. You struggled, bucked at the impact that forced your eyes to bulge and your throat to convulse. Only his palm at the middle of your back kept you in position.

The pain was not as immediate as you assumed it would be. It was more the startle of having it happen so unexpectedly that kicked you into action, on the heels was the warm tingle of your backside. Pulses of pain moved outwardly from the impact site like a stone causing ripples on a calm lake. “Ken—"

“Uh uh. This is not time for speaking,” he chided with a click of tongue against perfectly white teeth and a tone that silenced you instantly. “This is the least you could endure after you ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it beneath your heel. Ten. That will suffice, and then we can converse like proper adults. Until then, the only words out of those pretty lips are going to be the number we are on.”

He didn’t even wait for your reply, knowing that you would take whatever he chose to gift you like a champ. You were strong, always had been, and this was nowhere near enough to break your spirit. Kento didn’t want that, he wanted the real you that he had fallen for all those years ago as an emotionally stunted young man. You would come to understand his point of view when presented enough evidence and he had stacks of that to show you. Not now. Later, he thought again. So much had to wait but patience was his forte. 

Standing to his impressive height, he skimmed his palm over your tender backside and let out a bark of laughter when you tensed, waiting for what was to come. He waited until you relaxed, listening to your breathing mellow before delivering a short, hard smack to your left side. “Good girl,” he murmured thickly when you hissed out a ‘two’ from between clenched teeth. 

Kento was painfully hard; the length of his cock pressed stubbornly down the leg of his trousers to lay trapped against his thigh. His every inhale was like a knife to his groin, every squeeze of the muscles in your backside was a torture that he was inflicting upon himself. He twitched, precum dribbling down his thigh and turning the golden hairs of his legs sticky and wet. He would see this through. It was for the greater good, of that, he was convinced.

The repetition was agony. A vicious cycle that felt like it would never end though you had a target so close yet so far. A wealth of salty tears sprung from your eyes, falling to the floor to gather as a pitiful little puddle given the gravity of your head and body. Blood rushed through your ears; the pounding of your pulse nearly loud enough to drown out the weight of the smacks levelled against your arse. The plump tissue ached endlessly, throbbing to its own beat and it left you trapped inside your head. 

This was Kento—your Kento—delivering a punishment he deemed necessary, and you poked at his earlier words. If you were honest with yourself, you had suspected that the attraction between you was a mutual one and that the feelings ran deeper than either of you was willing to admit. You pondered how you would have felt if he had been the one to turn from you, taking the morality of who was wrong and right out of the equation, you would have been devastated.

Noiselessly, you wept for the connection you had lost all those months ago. You should be repulsed by the blood that stained his hands, but you couldn’t find it in you when all you wished to do was pull those bloodied hands to your mouth and suck the fingers between your lips. How badly you wanted to hear him groan in pleasure, to cup your face and drag his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip until it bounced back into place. 

“Ten…” 

Kento’s harsh breathing became apparent, the sound building in your ears whilst you dared not move an inch. Sweat caked your skin—hot and uncomfortable—it slid over the natural dips and curves of your frame, and you knew your face was warm enough to cook eggs. Your fingers slid against the metal legs resulting in a loud squeak and you winced… waiting, suspended in a moment that couldn’t last forever, the spell would be broken but by whom?

The rustle of clothing popped the bubble you were both suspended in, the telltale jangle of a metal belt buckle and stammered curses brought your focus behind you, your head turning to find Kento with an expression you had never seen before and undressed from the waist down. He looked like he was ready to explode. A thick vein popped from his temple, throbbing against the etched scowl and snarled mouth. You moaned and his eyes snapped to you, lips curling back from teeth to show you the ferocity firing through his veins.

Without a word, Kento moved you, so you were bent over the kitchen island, and you sighed from the reprieve of the awkward position you had been forced to hold. The buttons of your blouse skittered across the kitchen tiles when two powerful hands fisted either side of them and ripped it open. His mouth and hands were everywhere and all at once.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admitted. Wet kisses decorated the side of your neck, lips moulding over your pulse and humming happily at the frantic rhythm that mirrored his own. The brush of his bare thighs against yours elicited a guttural groan, taking the opportunity to reach back and scratch at the rough undercut at his nape, fingers delving into his hair and pressing him deeper into the crook of your neck whilst he marked you as his.

“…’m sorry, Kento. Please forgive me,” you sobbed brokenly, completely torn between burning joy and icy regret. An urgent hand pressed between your legs, thick fingers prodding and feeling the sopping fabric slick with arousal and sculpted to the molten heat of your swollen lips.

“Fuck. Save your apologies. I’ll hear them later, preferably whilst you’re gagging around my cock.”

Your backside rippled from the impact of his pelvis slamming into you, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. Kento chuckled darkly, the heat of your abused flesh warming that part of his soul that refused comfort until this very moment. He had no time to spare to remove your underwear, having used up all his patience in the measured delivery of his hand against your perfect behind. Ignoring the sharp prickling sensation radiating in his palm, he simply shoved them aside until he could push his heavy cock through. He wanted to ask if you were this wet because of the spanking or if you were merely pleased to see him, but the beastly part of his brain was firmly in the driver’s seat.

He was merciless; kicking your feet apart to widen your stance, tapping the fat head of his cock against your swollen clit and roaring in triumph when you pushed back against him. One second, he was teasing you, the next he was notched at your cunt and shunting himself forward. Kento gripped your hip, pulling you back whilst he worked inside, and the stretch was exactly what you expected. Every inch tickled your insides, thick veins stark and massaged by gummy walls made to take him.

“That’s it… there we go. God, look at you. Your pretty pussy is sucking me in… mm, more? All yours, sweetheart.” He crooned his lust-roughened rhetoric, and all you could do was hold onto the counter so your knees wouldn’t give out entirely. They shook with the force of his thrusts whilst he held you so tightly as if he worried you would slip through his fingers again. Not a fucking chance. You were his, and he wanted you to know that.

“Mine,” he growled, spittle flecking your shoulder as he bent over your body and bit into your tender skin. You howled, a mixture of pleasure and pain lighting up your insides. Stars winked in and out of your vision and you danced on your tippy toes as an orgasm near forced him out of you. If not for his determination to remain in the heart of your body, abusing the soft tissue near your belly, you would have expelled him with the force of your release.

Kento crowed like a maniacal king. Fucking you right through your high without a care for the overstimulation that left you whimpering and drooling onto the granite countertop. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface, eyes flickering between open and shut as you fought the desire to pass out. The pressure of your pulsing walls, the suction of your cunt drawing him back inside each time he pulled back was his undoing, and although he had planned to cum down your throat so he could see your tear-stained face, he couldn’t pull out. His balls drew close to his body, the familiar drip of impending release stirring at the small of his back but so much more intense than ever before. His head was thrown back at the first spurt of seed exploding outward to knock up against your fertile womb with only thoughts of what it might be like to have your soft stomach grow with his child on his mind.

Never had he produced so much, and he wondered if he had been saving it up for you. A ridiculous thought had he been in his right mind, but you both knew that wasn’t the case. His hands gentled, bruises forming the pattern of his fingertips marked your hips and waist. He smiled, the first true smile in what felt like forever. Soon he was laughing, and the jostle made you moan out, his softening cock twitching in your cunt and tickling you.

“I think I am more than ready to hear your apology, little dove.”

And you were more than ready to give it to him, after all… Kento possessed your heart.

[xsweetelegantdisasterx]

Phew. I am a horrible fan. . Pretty sure I fell off the posting bandwagon.

But I AM BACK. .

BABY boi Riku has a birthday 🎂 so I'm celebrating it!!

I hope by now you're sleeping in your beds 🛌 and not on my mens.

Listen, if you can agree on one thing with me, it's that he has a jaw line chiseled from the gods themselves.

The secret to a good night's rest is sleeping in your bed 🛌, not on my mens.

[victorluvsalice]

Hi all! It's the next update of the Chill Valicer Save, bringing us to Spring Sunday in the game and my birthday in real life! So everybody be nice and like this update. :p Today was another day spent largely at the store, so let's get straight into it --

-->Started with a few werewolf shenanigans from Alice -- thanks to her and Victor's amazing bed, she was full energy around 4:30 AM, and as she was already pretty Furious, I decided her task for the morning would be to knock herself over the edge so she could RAMPAGE and then immediately regain control with her Fury reset. She thus got sent outside to transform into her beast form and do werewolf stuff – marking her territory, howling, smelling and scavenging for treasures (nothing good though -- scavenging doesn't actually turn up stuff most of the time, I've noticed), things like that. *shrug* Sometimes, you just gotta indulge the beast!

-->While that was going on, Smiler finished off another computer chip and a mechanism on the robotics bench, then wandered into the living room to prune the regrown bonsai into a playful shape. I allowed this because I was curious as to what a "playful shape" was -- turns out it's a freezer bunny. XD I quite like that!

-->Victor woke up a little bit later with a talent point in hand – I had him spend it on “Charge Control” to reduce the amount of charge he builds up from casting spells (and as he does a LOT of that, it’s an important upgrade!), then head downstairs to do some laundry, which came with some free flirting from Smiler. :p Once everything was in the wash, he got dressed and headed into his greenhouse to check on all of his plants, and Smiler headed to the cow paddock to go refill Moory’s feed and check on the cow. Because we can't have this fussy cow deciding we don't love her, after all! After making sure she was good, I decided to have Smiler tip her (in Sims terms, this means “making it rain” simoleons in front of your cow) to get some enriched milk from the day's milking, then left them to it while I checked in on Alice! How was her proto-"rampage" going?

-->Well, uh, turns out she was rather more into cleaning up puddles and chatting with inanimate objects (like Victor's lettuce). Which, I couldn't object to the former, at least, even if it wasn't in my plan for her for the day. I was determined to knock her over the edge into a proper RAMPAGE, though, so after sending her to feed Toothy, I had her start going places FEROCIOUSLY and marking her territory to kick up the old Fury...