#What Types of Eye Treatment Are Available?

[laxminetralayabihar]

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[mitsua]

DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?

synopsis: a yandere who is a crybaby tries his best to maintain you now that you were kidnapped by him, but the moment he arrives home from work you notice his eyebags, and when he hears you call for him the first time, his whole self crumbles infront of you. (4.3k) warnings: love obsession, kidnapping, anxiety, depression, anger issues, self-harm, overworking, cursing, overthinking reader's gn a/n: literally my desired type of yandere... let me know what you think about it, i love reading your opinions!

he has kidnapped you weeks ago now, and ever since then, you have not spoke for the life of you. he even tried hearing anything you might get to say when you're all alone through the cameras he had installed for your arrival at his home, but to no avail—you haven't said anything.

he knew you might be struggling—he knew you would since the beginning—he knew you would take your time to get accostumed to this new and strange life with him, but had hopelessly thought it would be quicker and softer than whatever it's happening right now.

he knew you liked to talk yourself out whenever you were alone (or thought you were), so he didn't get it how were you standing so strong on your need to not say a word.

whenever he asks if you are hungry? if you're thirsty? cold? bored? you just look at him with those dull eyes of you, which of course had given him chills on more than one ocasion now, and he doesn't like that either—but what else can he do? he's in the edge of collapsing.

he's done everything he can to finish off work as quick as possible and try to spend more time by your side and see if something could change, expecting a miracle to happen so you'd be in a better mood and maybe finally telling him a simple yes or no when he asks if its ok to cuddle that night with you. he'd end up doing it whatever you say though—but maybe, just maybe, if you do use your voice to tell him not—he'd obey. he's got that desperate nowadays.

you got him going crazy, mind spiralling so much these days he can't focus on anything but trying to remember your voice and searching—thinking of anything that might get you to talk to him.

he's begged, he feels miserable admitting it, but he's gotten on his knees and pleaded you to voice at least one of your thoughts, to insult him or tell him how angry you feel with him—but none of that ever comes. he's left in tears, facing the floor with bruised fists of so much hitting the ground in desperation.

did you know what you were doing to him? he always thought you did, because if you didn't, you wouldn't deprive yourself so much in the sake of seeing him suffer—would you? he really hopes not, he already thinks you hate him enough but not to that extent.

weeks had turned into months and he's gotten promoted on his job to a higher rank without knowing why 'cause he's been more scattered than usual—whatever, now he's gotten a higher salary, he planned on spoiling you even more. he doesn't plan on hurting you to talk to him, no no, it's the other way around—he plans on making you the happiest ever to get to see you recover to your normal self—to smile at him.

however, as this new rank had its perks, it had its drawbacks as well. he wouldn't spend much time with you anymore and that got him thinking twice about signing the papers—but as his more depressed voice on his mind told him—if you aren't talking to him now, maybe if you miss him enough you'll do, and when he goes back home with lots of presents for you, you'll change your mind about this silent treatment nightmare.

yeah. he'd take the offer.

he didn't expect the work to be as insufferable as it has come to be, he's gotta deal with lots of clients a day while going in and out of meetings with some superiors while teaching juniors how to start with the business. to say he's going even crazier would be an understatement—he's losing his sanity.

however, something peculiar about him is that he doesn't like lashing out with the first person who makes him snap, no, he's a sensible man—a crybaby. he doesn't scream his lungs out when things aren't going his way, he doesn't grab by the collar a stupid costumer nor does he slap the shit out of those who take advantage of him because of this same reasons—he just cries, cries and hurts himself as he punches the walls that protect his dignity even by being all alone and letting all his feelings flow along his tears.

so he arrives home one of this tiring and stressing days—expecting you to be locked on your shared room, hugging your knees as close as possible to do not meet him in the eye—he expected everything to be as quiet, as cold and as dark as a cave.

he's been dealing all by himself the tasks of taking care of yourself, he's prepared some meals and had ordered take out every now and then as well, he's bought you some clothing and let you choose yourself via app to order some more or even things for hobbies he knew you had before taking you captive.

he knew the routine by now, and thinking about repeating it all over again day and day didn't bother him at all as long as he had you much than now.

he's wearing himself out for some dream he knew wasn't bound to happen until you'd let it—until you love him. until you love him too.

he was pretty confident on himself before kidnapping you it'd come to happen one day or another, but having been as long as it has already been, he's not sure anymore.

you weren't showing any signs of letting your guard down, of trusting him even a bit, nothing—you just looked so empty.

or that's what he thought at least.

when he'd first taken you from away from your life you were scared, angry, anxious and mostly, sad. you couldn't comprehend your thoughts as your mind raced miles per minute with everything that was happening at once.

there was this man who had come up with you and messily but sort of sweetly confessed his love to you, a very intense one as he let see. the next second—as you told him you didn't know him so you politely rejected his feelings—he was on you putting a cloth on your mouth and nose.

when you woke up, you were on a place you had never seen and the same man appeared and gave you a welcome—with a sheepish smile and looking like a teenager in love—told you to feel comfortable around here and to not be afraid to ask for anything, that he'd provide all your needs in the blink of an eye.

you were incredulous, you couldn't believe he was so devoted to you as to know each and every one of your likings, dislikes, hobbies, prefered music, everything. maybe he even knew you better than you knew yourself—it scared you.

how were you expected to respond to all that love bombing? you were scared and sad when he'd explained you wouldn't leave the house ever again, or atleast until he deemed it possible, as he still thought you would try to escape from him—and of course you agreed on your mind.

but you were that afraid of anything he might do that your body wouldn't obey you. you wanted to scream so loud but the only thing that ever came out were tears of frustration—tears holding the deep feelings you were holding from not talking for so long with someone else—even when he's been a "gentleman" and asked you to talk to him so many times.

you just wouldn't budge, sometimes because of the anger, some others because of fear and mostly nowadays because you were giving up your life altogether.

no one has come here, to wherever this house was. when he's turned on the tv there were no reports on missing people, you didn't have your phone either so you got no messages from family members or friends asking where were you or if you were ok, you missed all of that and wish you could matter some more to all of them to have already found you. but they hadn't—they weren't really looking that deep on anything for time to have passed so slow yet so fast that it'd already been half a year and there was nothing from them.

no one cared about you—or so you thought until you saw him one day arriving to the house looking so tired, with eyebags so marked and sluggish steps going straight to the bedroom to leave his suitcase and greet you as usual with the same sheepish smile and a kiss on your forehead. you thought no one cared about you—but as he then dragged his tired body to the kitchen to get started on making your favorite dish for the nth time on the month, you weren't so sure anymore.

you were starting to trust a little bit on him, but reprimanded yourself so hard on your mind that you were left exhausted mentally everyday with your dilemma.

you needed to distract yourself, you couldn't bear that all the things you were bottling up on your throat before they could even taste the tip of your tongue would always swirl around your mind and dreams to get turned on nightmares being awake or not so often now.

so you got up from the bed one day and took tiny and doubtfull steps to the kitchen after your kidnapper had left for work—not without giving you your forehead kiss of course.

upon arriving to your today's destiny, you put on the apron he's showed many times before to you telling you he bought specially for you for when you're on the mood of joining him to help on preparing the food for the day.

a smile crossed your features without knowing. it had a design of your favorite animal on a cartoonish style printed cutely on it.

you got a look around the shelfs and the refrigerator to mentally make a list about possible recipes you could get done with everything there is.

before living whatever the hell this all has been you see—even if you weren't so doted on it—you liked cooking. trying out recipes only you could mix up and to your contentment, the majority of your dishes would end up being to your family's and friends' liking.

you got absorbed on making a specific dish that your bad thoughts were all forgotten and replaced by the thought of seeing your plate finished and the smile of your captor when seeing it.

how would he react? would he be angry? suspicious of your sudden actions? there's no poison around here so there would be no need for him to worry about anything like that though...

you admitted you would feel a bit sad if he were to talk badly about your cooking skills, but still were adamant on trying to get it done, so persevered and as the clock hit the time he was supposed to get out of work as he's told you weeks ago for his new rank, you had plated two sets of your soup and main dish along a mini dessert at the sides.

you felt anxious—your stomach wasn't as hungry as you thought when you smelled the soup cooking up minutes ago, no—you were nervous.

as some time passed and the clock hit the next hour, you decided to take a shower to hopefully get the warm water to calm your racing heart and wild butterflies in your belly.

you put on some of the clothes you've chosen and accesories he's bought you that made you feel comfortable to turn on the tv and continue watching a movie.

however, you kept glancing the clock every five minutes approximately and grew even more anxious and disappointed when it had passed two hours since he was supposed to arrive.

he's has never begged so hard for earth to just swallow him up so many times before in a day but here he was. his boss had left on unannounced vacations for a whole month and dumped all his responsibilities on him while a new course had opened for recently graduated juniors to get experience on the area, and just when he thought it couldn't get worse—an important partner of the company had demanded a meeting with the same person missing for some stupid vacation on miami now of all times.

everytime he turned around at any room there would be a new person or a colleague asking him for favors, questions he's felt he's answered hundreds of times already, to sign so many papers he's not sure he's really doing his best to keep his signature the same 'cause his hand hurts so much. his feet are aching and his headache is doing nothing but making the day feel endless.

he wants to arrive home already—he wants to go with you even if you'd just look at your arms or knees instead of him—he's one hundred percent sure that'd be better than all this chaos.

he hadn't had the time to check out on you now that he thinks about it. but just as that thought occurs, another phone rings and he has to sit on a new chat with an angry client, slowly getting so overwhelmed with it that he forgets about checking the app on his phone that had become a salvation for moments like this—where he sees your every movement around his house, even if its not that much.

and just as he had thought—the workload wouldn't let him go rest at his designated time, no, it would prolong until two more hours later of suffering. he wanted to cry so bad now.

when the last colleague had left and the company's lights finally turned off, he almost felt his soul leave his body from relief.

he tried his best to grab his things and return home as quick as possible, but his swollen feet from all the walking around offices, dizzy mind and buzzing ears made it an impossible task. he stumbled upon every stone on his path to his car, almost crashed it and could be seen sleeping on every red light.

he wanted to be with you right on that instant so badly he swore he could die happily even if that was the last thing he did.

as he parked his car and as carefully and silently as he could opened the front door to do not wake you—he let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding all the way until here, closing his arms and trying to stretch his legs for the muscles to relax now that he's in a safe space.

when he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the turned on tv with the netflix warning reading "are you still watching?" for when a show had ended but no movement was made after some minutes. then, his eyes instantely fell on the back of your head resting on the couch of the living room. he took more steps in in the way of your bedroom to leave his suitcase as always—but the scene before it left him astonished.

the table was set up—cutlery placed neatly and deliciously looking food put on the bowls and plain dishes it made his mouth water almost instantly, but most importantly, his heart started beating fast and his cheeks reddened. soon, his eyes let out all his frustrations from the day into salty tears and broken sobs came from his dry throat and deeply overwhelmed mind and heart.

you had prepared it. you prepared all this for the two of you. the set for the other person accross the table was untouched which meant you hadn't eaten either. you were waiting for him too—you waited for him. to eat dinner—to eat dinner together.

he felt like he died and reborn once more. he wasn't taking it easy and dropped his suitcase without thinking the noise would startle you. his hands going straight to his eyes to stop his with his waterfalls and choke down his sobs.

you woke up startled by the noise of... him crying? oh no, he'd arrived and you've fallen asleep! he's already seen the surprise but maybe he hadn't like it? you felt terrible, your stomach dropping upon seeing him desperately rubbing his eyes and crumbling on the dining room's floor.

you got up and came behind him, taking into account that because of his loud crying he hadnt' noticed you. you got worried for him—just as you got worried all those times ago when he'd cry and beg for you to talk and look at him—you didn't like seeing him cry, but he wouldn't stop.

so you spoke.

"hey," something as simple as that but you did it. something you hadn't done for the almost seven months you've been trapped with someone you barely knew but had told you he'd fallen deeply in love with you—with someone who'd spent everyday since then showing you—his in fact—endless love for you.

he stopped his crying immediately, shoulders tensing and mind short-circuiting. did you just—did you just talk to him?

"i-i'm sorry if it's not of your liking, i-i just-i just thought about making dinner but never really asked for permission-i'm-i'm so sorry"—you rambled, now that you started speaking you couldn't really stop yourself anymore.

your mind now freely spoke everything it came to it, forgetting about the overthinking you did about the right moments or right words—you just did it.

he wasn't really reacting. how could he? he didn't know what to do or say—many things he's dreamed of had happened in the spawn of five minutes since he's arrived.

he turned slowly to face you, the light hitting him from the back didn't let his swollen red eyes and runny nose from all the crying be seen easily—but you could see his form shivering—he's holding his tears back now. just as you got surprised by the sudden recover of your voice, he also was.

so you spoke up again, but this time with your actions.

you took some steps closer to him—coming face to face with his chest as he was a lot taller than you—and wrapped your arms around him.

you were doing anything before thinking further on it, really. he started crying even harder this time. almost making you retract yourself but you didn't—you didn't want to let go.

he's proved you he would mantain you—he's given you some kind of freedom under his roof and brought you so many things that on your previous lifestyle you could only dream of. he's talked for the two of you all this time you were deprived of it—even if he felt bad about it—he never hurt you or said bad things to you. he encouraged you to, he really demonstrated he did all of what he did because of love.

and you've fallen for it.

now that he had everything he's asked for he couldn't react as he thought he would. he thought that whenever it was that you would hug him first, he'd instantely reciprocate the affection and drown you whole on it. he'd smother you with tons of kisses and tell you so many cheesy lines even he'd feel grossed out from them, but he wouldn't care 'cause you wouldn't care either, you'd be happy—happy together.

after some minutes of you holding him together on your arms as he sobbed out uncomprehensible lines and looked at you through blurry eyes, you ended the hug and unconsciously moved your hands to take place on both of his cheeks so sweetly—so carefully as he if he's made of porcelain—and stared into his eyes so deeply his knees got weak, your eyes were full of love—they were screaming it—he could hear it.

you've fallen for him—you've really done it.

you looked from his wide-puppy-like eyes to his lips as if asking permission for sealing this silent promise of eternal love you've sentenced upon the two of you since you hugged him.

he nodded his head a little and sucked in a breath as if preparing for what's to come. you reached closer—neither closing your eyes just yet until you connected your lips with his.

it felt as if the world stopped for seconds—it felt right—so damn right. he finally got rid of his frozen posture and placed one of his hands on behind your head and the other on your hips to pull you closer, while you focused on laying all your emotions for him on that kiss—that special and never-forgettable moment you'd just share.

you lasted some seconds more until he pulled away to look at you in the eye, look at you already looking at him—not like all those times in the past when he'd have to search for your eyes—you shared the same warmth as he's shared for you all this time until now, for him.

"i love you so much," his mouth let out, reciting it out in the open once again as he's done for so many nights on the past even if you didn't tell him anything.

but to his surprise, today you'd decided to reciprocate it. "i love you too."

four words, eleven vocal tones united to form four words that all come together meaning such a common yet powerful feeling humans feel for another—another human or thing, moment or memory—this being confessed only when seem proper, mostly when two people mean it, not without a risk of course—risk of losing it all but said with the confidence of it not happening. said with the hope it won't—hoping this love would flourish into something deeper and comfortable in many forms, the forms of a house, a family—an eternity together.

four words that made him remember why he's loved you so much and felt all his time spent on you was worth every single second.

"i'm so happy with you, i-i love you," he repeated, this time taking your hands on his bigger ones, and his smile so big that his teeth were showing and eyes almost closing resembling that of a child getting the latest toy they wanted.

you squeezed softly and started to walk without letting go, to the table—only doing so when you went to take out the chair for him to have a seat and gently indicating him so, picking up the cold plates and going to warm them up in the microwave.

he's eyes never left your form—just as when he'd watch you while doing paperwork through the cameras—he was and would always be infatuated with you. he felt so blessed in that moment and thanked whatever came to his mind for what was happening.

as much as he'd like to help you out right now—he just felt so tired and so enraptured with your movements that he stayed still until you returned with the food and placed it down again on its place, smiling softly at him and taking a seat too.

he took the first bite, already thinking it would taste delicious if it came from you, savoring it he noticed how wrong he was—it tasted heavenly. his face relaxed and he started eating faster, devoring everything as his now more than empty stomach begged for some food after the long hours he's spent without eating.

you took it as a good sign and felt relieved—finally digging in—you both finished fairly quickly and as you were about to wash the dishes, he came behind you saying, "let me get those done, you've already cooked for the both of us, it's the least i can do."

"no, you've just come from working, and if i decided to cook then i'm in charge of cleaning them too." you defended, taking the gloves and almost putting them on before he negotiated, "then what about doing them tomorrow, i'm so tired right now i'd like to just hug you all night." he smirked after seeing you ponder for a bit, he got you.

"fine... i'll-i''ll wake up early to clean them before you even think of doing so!" you claimed, taking off the gloves and tangling your arm around his, both of you walking to the bedroom.

"i'll undo the bed, you can go change," you offered, going up to it and starting to place the decorative pillows on the armchair next to the desk in the bedroom—where he'd often spend restless nights firstly figuring out his plan to get you, and when he'd gotten you—nights planning out how to get you to fall for him, now he's watching you place those pillows yourself, undoing the bed and taking place on it as if you were already a married couple.

he changed to his pajamas carelessly, tossing his uniform on his wardrobe and shoes long-forgotten somewhere on the carpeted floor of the dressing room that covered the whole bedroom as well.

he then let himself fall on the bed, arms looking out immediately for your body and wrapped gently yet tightly around you, taking a deep breath on the side of your neck and letting all his worries vanish from his mind by having you all to himself like this.

"good night," you whispered, hands going to play with his hair and caressing it softly as if petting a cat, he felt like he'd most definitely end up purring too.

"good night, my love."

PT. 2 HERE

here's my yandere OC's m.list if you wanna read more! remember you can ask to be tagged at any of the fandoms i write for ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

[satsugacafe]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Ishida Uryu, Kurosaki Ichigo, Abarai Renji, Shuhei Hisagi, Hitsugaya Toshiro, Izuru Kira

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello! What would jealousy hcs of Uryu, Shuhei, Toshiro, Izuru, and Yumichika be like? You can add more character if you like. 💜

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Didn’t include Yumichika because I don’t write for him. Thank you for the request!!

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: When these pookies catch the little green monster after seeing someone friendly with you.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Ishida Uryu

˚₊‧꒰ა Uryu didn’t think himself the jealous type, not with how calm and composed he usually was, but all of that got thoroughly tested the moment he saw you laughing with someone else. His steps slowed, his jaw tightened just slightly, and his glasses slipped a bit down the bridge of his nose from how sharply he turned to observe.

˚₊‧꒰ა He didn’t interrupt at first. That wasn’t his style. He stood back, arms crossed, watching with thinly veiled scrutiny. The moment you brushed your hand against the other person’s arm in casual conversation, he pushed up his glasses with two fingers and muttered, “Tch. Pathetic.”

✧ It didn’t matter that it was innocent. It didn’t matter that he trusted you. What mattered was the way your eyes sparkled in that exact way you normally saved for him. That bothered him more than he’d admit.

˚₊‧꒰ა The next time you spoke to him, he was polite. Too polite. Every word was clipped, his tone curt, and he refused to meet your eyes.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Did you have a nice chat?” he asked, just a little too cold, fingers twitching near the cuff of his sleeve.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you acted oblivious, he’d only grow more passive-aggressive. “No, really. You two seemed to be getting on swimmingly. I wouldn’t want to interrupt...whatever that was.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d start showing up more. In areas he didn’t need to be in. Casually leaning against doorframes, acting like he just happened to be passing by. One time you found him sitting on a bench at a café you frequented, already halfway through a cup of black coffee, book in hand. “Coincidence,” he said. “You take too long choosing your drinks.”

˚₊‧꒰ა If another person got too touchy around you, Uryu had this habit of adjusting his wrists in a way that flashed his Quincy cross. It wasn’t exactly subtle.

˚₊‧꒰ა The moment you call him out on it, his composure snaps slightly. “I’m not jealous. I’m simply…observant. I notice when people hover around you unnecessarily. I have eyes, after all.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He won’t make a scene. But he’ll make it known to the other person, in an extremely polite and somehow threatening manner, that you are not available for flirting.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Do try not to loiter near people who are already spoken for,” he once said flatly to someone who was standing a little too close, before turning away.

˚₊‧꒰ა He always apologised afterward, but it would be done in an awkward, stiff sort of way. “I may have overreacted. Not that I’m admitting fault. But perhaps...I was slightly out of line.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He won’t sulk. Not really. But you’ll catch him sighing in that exaggerated way and folding his arms whenever you’re texting someone.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you joke with him about being jealous, he’ll scoff. “Ridiculous. I have far more important things to worry about. Though...I would appreciate it if you didn’t give others the wrong impression. For clarity’s sake.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His jealousy isn’t loud, but it’s thorough. He starts noticing things—people you mention in passing, patterns of where you hang out, even who sits next to you at mission briefings.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you reassure him, he’ll deny needing it—but you’ll still notice the way he relaxes. The little flicker of a smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You’re not property,” he says one evening, after yet another bout of silent treatment. “But I don’t share well, either.”

˚₊‧꒰ა And that was about as honest as Uryu ever got with his jealousy.

Kurosaki Ichigo

˚₊‧꒰ა He had never liked subtlety. So when he got jealous, it showed. The minute he saw some bloke trying to impress you with kido tricks outside the 12th Division building, his whole posture changed. Shoulders squared, eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a tight frown that screamed don’t push it.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Oi,” he called across the street, tone casual but definitely not casual. “Didn’t know we were letting circus acts roam around now.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d walk straight up without hesitating, throw a lazy arm over your shoulder, and stare the other guy down like it was just another Tuesday.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You good?” he’d ask you, ignoring the other person completely. “He wasn’t bothering you, yeah?”

˚₊‧꒰ა The moment you say “no, we were just talking,” his eyes flicker sideways with a sharpness that borders on petty. “Right. Talking. Looked more like performing.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He gets protective in a very loud, visible way. If someone flirts with you in front of him, he’ll interrupt immediately. “Hey, didn’t realise we were handing out free confidence today.”

˚₊‧꒰ა If the person keeps pushing, Ichigo doesn’t even get aggressive. He just gets louder and more sarcastic. “You got a name, or should I keep calling you irrelevant?”

˚₊‧꒰ა He isn’t above pulling you away entirely. Grabs your hand, and mutters, “C’mon, we’ve got better things to do than babysit egos.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He gets irritable after. Not with you, but in general. Things clatter louder, he chews his food like it insulted him, and he mutters under his breath when texting.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Didn’t think you were into that kind of guy,” he said once, frowning at the floor. “Guess I’ll go summon some paint and start juggling or something.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He tries not to make you feel bad about it. He really does. But Ichigo has never been good at hiding his emotions. Especially when it comes to you.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you tease him, he plays it off—poorly. “I’m not jealous. He was just annoying. You’re allowed to talk to people. Just not...like that.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’ll start upping his game without even realising it. More affectionate. Training harder. Pulling you into little side missions just the two of you. “Figured we could use some time away from magician boy.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His friends definitely notice. Renji teases him for it constantly. “Mate, just admit you’re jealous before you break your own jaw grinding your teeth.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s lowkey clingy when he’s jealous. Not obvious, just...always next to you. Offering to walk you places. Helping you carry things. Scowling at anyone who so much as glances your way too long.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Do you have to be so nice to everyone?” he once asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “People are gonna start thinking they’ve got a chance.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He won’t say it out loud, but when you reassure him that you only want him, he quiets down immediately. Shoulders drop. He stops pacing. Looks at you like you’ve just given him oxygen.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Yeah?” he says like he wasn’t sure until now. Then softer, “Good. ‘Cause I don’t wanna fight for your attention like it’s some kind of competition.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Even when the jealousy passes, he doesn’t forget. You’ll find him more watchful, and more determined to earn your attention, even in subtle ways.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I’m not insecure,” he muttered once, half into your shoulder. “I just...don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they’ve got a shot. Not when I’m right here.”

Abarai Renji

˚₊‧꒰ა Zero resistance to making facial expressions the most he got jealous. The moment he caught sight of someone getting too friendly with you—like that seated officer from Squad Five leaning a bit too close while chatting—his expression turned stormy without him even realising.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d cross his arms and glare from across the courtyard, muttering under his breath, “Who the hell does he think he is, smiling like that? Tch.”

˚₊‧꒰ა The minute your conversation ended, he’d be at your side like a summoned spirit. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of Squad Five,” he said, trying for casual but sounding absolutely not.

˚₊‧꒰ა He wasn’t subtle. He’d stand closer to you than usual, stare down anyone who tried to talk to you, and ask loudly, “Oi, you alright? This guy wasn’t boring you to death or anything, yeah?”

˚₊‧꒰ა If the person didn’t get the message, Renji would up the territorial energy. “Maybe go find someone else to chat up. Pretty sure they got enough company.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He wouldn’t be angry with you exactly, but he’d sulk in that very obvious Renji way—sitting nearby, arms behind his head, looking everywhere but at you, and responding with short ‘yeah’s and ‘whatever’s.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You were laughing a lot,” he’d mutter at some point. “Didn’t know his jokes were that funny. You never laugh that hard at my stuff.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d start doing extra things to make himself stand out. Training longer, picking tougher missions, throwing flashier attacks when you were around.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Maybe if I wore my hair differently and started quoting poetry like Captain Kyoraku, I’d get your attention too,” he once grumbled while re-tying his headband.

˚₊‧꒰ა He got handsy when jealous—casual, but intentional. Arm around your waist. Hand on your lower back. Slipping his scarf around your neck with a cocky “Here, you’ll catch a chill,” just to watch others back off.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you teased him about it, he’d scoff, “Me? Jealous? Nah. Just don’t like weirdos crowdin’ you.” But then he’d glance away and mumble, “...I just don’t want someone thinkin’ they’ve got a chance, s’all.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He hated how obvious he was, but he couldn’t help it. You were his, and he didn’t like people sniffing around like they belonged in your world.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Look, I get it, people like talkin’ to you. You’re smart and funny and...look amazing, alright? But that don’t mean I gotta like it.”

˚₊‧꒰ა If you reassured him, he melted immediately. “Yeah? Just me, huh?” Then all the tension dropped from his shoulders and he gave that lopsided grin. “Thought so. Still gonna keep an eye on ‘em, though.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He once bumped into someone on purpose just to get them to move away from you. “Oops,” he said flatly. “Didn’t see you there.” He very much did.

˚₊‧꒰ა You’d find him more touchy for a few days after, keeping you within arm’s reach like someone might try and snatch you the second he blinked.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Ain’t about bein’ possessive,” he muttered one night while watching the stars from the rooftop. “It’s just...when I’ve got something good, I don’t wanna lose it ‘cause someone else decided to play clever.”

Shuhei Hisagi

˚₊‧꒰ა He wouldn’t interrupt conversations or make scenes, but he had a way of staring that could cut glass. The moment someone stood too close to you, his entire energy shifted.

˚₊‧꒰ა He wouldn’t say a word at first. Just observed from a distance, arms folded, expression unreadable save for the way his jaw clenched just slightly.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Friendly bunch in Squad Thirteen, huh,” he’d say later, voice calm but dipped in steel. “Didn’t realise you were that close.”

˚₊‧꒰ა If you brushed it off, he wouldn’t argue. But the next time that person approached, Hisagi was already there. Like a shadow. “Everything alright?” he asked, polite but with that unsettling smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

˚₊‧꒰ა He didn’t need to raise his voice. He used presence. Leaned in just slightly when someone addressed you. Stood between you and them without saying a word.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Sorry, do you need something?” he asked someone once, even though they were clearly talking to you. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He got sharper in the aftermath. Not cruel, but more teasing in a dry, cutting way. “So...gonna start bringing flowers to that guy next? He seems like he’d love the attention.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His sarcasm was his shield. He wouldn’t admit jealousy out loud—not at first. He’d just go quieter, colder, and throw in dry comments whenever the subject came up.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Didn’t know you were so easy to impress. All he did was quote a haiku and suddenly it’s the best day of your life?”

˚₊‧꒰ა But he hated the way it made him feel, so eventually he’d just say it outright, in a tired voice: “Look, I don’t like how close he was standing. That’s all. Maybe it’s petty, but I notice these things.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He didn’t flirt much when jealous, but his body language shifted—hands always brushing against yours, standing just a little closer than usual, lingering gazes that held a mix of warning and want.

˚₊‧꒰ა If someone tried to flirt with you in front of him, he’d stare them down with all the weight of the 9th Division’s cold professionalism. “You done?”

˚₊‧꒰ა The person usually backed off. Hisagi didn’t need volume. Just a look.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you caught him acting cold and asked what was wrong, he’d hesitate before admitting it: “I don’t like competition. Doesn’t sit right with me. Makes me...sharp.”

˚₊‧꒰ა The sharpness came from fear, not ego. The fear that he wasn’t enough. That someone more charismatic or light-hearted would take you away.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I’ve got a job that keeps me neck-deep in darkness,” he said one night. “Sometimes I worry that someone brighter will take you out of it. Out of reach.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Reassure him and he’d go completely still, like the tension bled out of him all at once. Then he’d nod once and smile—soft, real, and just a bit sheepish. “Alright. I’ll chill. For now.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He wasn’t dramatic, but he was relentless. He’d keep watching people around you, reading every shift in tone, every glance, every smile.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I trust you,” he said once. “It’s them I don’t trust. Some people don’t care if someone’s taken.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You’d find he became more present in subtle ways—taking breaks when you were free, stopping by your division more often, walking you home without needing to be asked.

˚₊‧꒰ა “No reason,” he said when asked why. “Just felt like seeing you.” But his eyes were already scanning the hallway behind you.

Hitsugaya Toshiro

˚₊‧꒰ა He didn’t understand why his mood soured so suddenly when he spotted you chatting with a seated squad member under the sakura trees. It wasn’t even romantic, but the way the bloke was smiling—too smug, too relaxed—put his instincts on edge.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Is that supposed to be flirting?” he muttered to Matsumoto, arms crossed, glare locked on the pair of you. “Pathetic.”

˚₊‧꒰ა The next time you passed by his office, he looked up, cool and professional, but with a definite edge in his tone. “I thought you were off socialising with that loudmouth from Squad Nine.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He wasn’t one to get dramatic about it, but he started showing up in your vicinity more often, under the guise of work. Delivering paperwork himself, offering to accompany you on patrol, assigning you to meetings that mysteriously had no actual agenda.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You’re already on the roster with me,” he said when you questioned it. “Coincidence. Don’t overthink it.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He was curt for a while, his usual formality laced with unspoken frustration. When you asked what was wrong, he simply said, “Nothing. Why, something wrong with you?”

˚₊‧꒰ა If someone got a little too comfortable around you in his presence, he’d make it uncomfortable fast. “I’d appreciate it if you kept things professional,” he said icily once, after someone put their hand on your shoulder.

˚₊‧꒰ა His jealousy came with silence more than arguments. Days where he said less than usual, sighed more, sat at his desk with furrowed brows and stabbed his brush into ink with unnecessary force.

˚₊‧꒰ა When he finally cracked, it was because you laughed at another man’s joke in the middle of a squad dinner. “Glad someone finds him funny,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear but not loud enough to start a scene.

˚₊‧꒰ა You caught him scowling at the man from across the room, eyes narrowed, fingers twitching near Hyorinmaru’s hilt. “Are you alright?” you asked. “Peachy,” he deadpanned.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you tease him about being jealous, he immediately denies it. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a captain. I don’t have time for...that.” He paused. “I just don’t like seeing idiots waste your time.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When he’s really bothered, he gets short-tempered (aka, sassy) with you too, snapping at you during training. “You’re distracted. What, still thinking about your little tea break the other day?”

˚₊‧꒰ა He never apologised directly, but his version of an apology came in subtle actions. Leaving your favourite snacks in the barracks lounge. Offering to spar with you. Sitting next to you in meetings without saying a word, just being there.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You could’ve told me if you weren’t interested anymore,” he once muttered while standing beside you on a rooftop.

˚₊‧꒰ა When you reassured him, he looked away, but the tension in his shoulders melted slightly. “Good. That’s...good to know.”

˚₊‧꒰ა And he never said the words, but from then on, you noticed how close he stayed during missions. How he always positioned himself between you and potential threats. How his eyes lingered longer when you smiled.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I don’t get jealous,” he muttered once after a long silence. “But I don’t like being taken for granted either.”

Izuru Kira

˚₊‧꒰ა It started when he overheard you joking with another seated officer in the Squad Three barracks, laughing—really laughing—and not in the way you usually laughed around him.

˚₊‧꒰ა He didn’t interrupt. He just stood there in the doorway, his smile tight, fingers resting uneasily on his sword hilt, watching the scene like it was a painting he didn’t like.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I didn’t realise you two were so...friendly,” he said later that evening while handing you some paperwork.

˚₊‧꒰ა He wouldn’t act on it immediately. Instead, he’d withdraw a little. Quietly brood. He’d finish conversations too quickly, duck out of shared breaks, and deflect whenever you asked if something was wrong.

˚₊‧꒰ა “No, everything’s fine. I just have a lot on my plate.” But his tone said don’t ask again.

˚₊‧꒰ა He started keeping tabs on where you spent your free time. Not in a possessive way—more like he was collecting evidence. Quietly confirming whether his feelings were justified.

˚₊‧꒰ა The moment he saw the guy again, leaning too close and laughing too loudly, he finally snapped. “That’s enough,” he said. “You’ve got work to do elsewhere, don’t you?”

˚₊‧꒰ა The man raised a brow, but left. Kira didn’t explain. He just turned to you and asked, “You didn’t think that was a bit much?”

˚₊‧꒰ა If you tried to make light of it, he’d grow even more tense. “It’s not funny. I don’t want to be someone you flirt with for fun. I thought we were more serious than that.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His insecurity ran deep, and jealousy only made it worse. He started questioning whether you even wanted to be with someone like him—quiet, reserved, weighed down by history.

˚₊‧꒰ა “He’s probably more interesting than me,” he said bitterly once during a late patrol. “Doesn’t come with the same baggage.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When you got frustrated with his self-pity, he apologised almost instantly. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I just...I hate not knowing where I stand.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His jealousy always circled back to fear—fear of being replaceable. Of being too easy to leave.

˚₊‧꒰ა But when you told him he wasn’t, he looked at you like he didn’t quite believe it at first. Then, slowly, he smiled—small, soft, genuine. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

˚₊‧꒰ა After that, he became a little more confident. Subtly possessive. Sitting closer. Touching your hand more often. Holding eye contact longer whenever someone else hovered near you.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d still get jealous, but he handled it with quiet authority. “I trust you,” he said once, “but I don’t have to trust everyone else.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Occasionally, when someone stepped over the line, he’d lean in and speak low enough only they could hear: “I’d be careful if I were you. They’re not available. Don’t make assumptions.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His jealousy wasn’t loud, but it had weight. The kind that lingered. And once he accepted that you were his, he made damn sure no one else mistook your kindness for anything else.

˚₊‧꒰ა “If I ever seem cold,” he said one night, “just know it’s because I care too much. Not the other way around.”

˚₊‧꒰ა And though he’d never admit it, the way you always chose him over everyone else—that was what finally kept the smoke from swallowing him whole.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @spellboundsuguru @cactimorada @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner @sovl-society @villainsrtasty @foxycrafterofgreenwood @carnationdoe

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[kyokikikie]

✩ Second Best (T. Kuroo)

masterlist!! Bewitched series (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

—> in which Y/n slowly realises that she will never have space in his heart.

➤ genre: angst, slight cheating (?), wrong idea of ‘love’

She would never forget how stupid she was.

Jubilant. She was jubilant when the news of Kuroo Tetsuro — the guy that she had pined for since she laid eyes on him, had gotten dumped by his girlfriend. Of course, she did feel bad for him, who would even dare to let such a man slip away from their arms?

She didn’t give a second thought on why he got broken up with. Kuroo was now available. She could return to chasing after him, and soon, he would finally accept her.

That was what she thought.

Kuroo wasn’t oblivious to the way she would look at him, a look full of admiration and affection. She was blinded by love, the perfect person he could use.

So when the volleyball captain came up to her and asked her to be his girl, she was over the moon. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend!” She beamed, holding the single rose Kuroo had given her. A sigh of relief escaped the male’s mouth, phase one of his scheme was easy. Kuroo gave a mischievous smirk.

Soon, he’ll have his ex crawling back to him, begging to take her back, and he’ll tell the girl before his eyes a lame excuse before accepting his ex with open arms.

For a few months, Kuroo was the sweetest towards Y/n. He would give her flowers every time they met up for a date, gave her the princess treatment, and always made time for her. Everyone would kill to have what she had. The school heartthrob, treating his girl how she deserves to be treated.

Everything was going well. Too well.

On a Sunday night, Kuroo was over at Y/n’s for their weekly cuddles. Unfortunately, a simple message from someone crashed the whole mood. The male picked up his phone to reply to the text, not knowing that his current girlfriend who was beside him could see every single letter being typed out.

Out of anger, she pushed the thick blanket aside and sat up from the bed. Y/n snatched the phone out of Kuroo’s hands, “You’re here enjoying time with YOUR girlfriend and yet still dare to contact your ex?” she emphasised.

“Baby, come on, she reached out first, i was going to shut her down anyways,”

“Bullshit.” She raised her voice and spat. ”Why? The words you typed out surely weren't telling me you were. Why? Am I not enough for you? Was I not enough? Do you even–” Before she had the chance to continue her rambling, Kuroo stepped closer to her and closed the gap between them.

That shut her up.

It wasn’t the first time they had shared a kiss. However, this one made her stood rooted to the ground. When his warm lips touched hers, the warmth that it was supposed to give was missing.

That's when she knew that someone else was in his mind.

Y/n couldn't react and only watched as Kuroo took his bag and left her house, “I promise you, she has no ill intentions.” was all he said. No goodbyes. No ‘see you tomorrow’ like he would usually do. Her boyfriend had left her, frozen and the comfort he gave was ‘she has no ill intentions’?

she couldn't believe it. she didn't want to. She spent all her hard work building this relationship with him, there was no way she's letting it go just because of a simple argument. When the sound of her front door banged shut, her knees gave in and she slumped to the floor, tears streaming down her eyes.

From then on, kisses from him didn't feel as comfortable anymore.

Ever since that day, Kuroo’s eyes were glued to his phone, typing away. Whenever he is out with the h/c-haired girl, his hands will always find their way to the device instead of her hand.

“Kuroo, what should we eat for dinner?”

The rooster-head male shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not hungry.” He replied, eyes darting to the girl next to him and then looked back at his phone. Kuroo was starting to replicate the image of kenma.

The radiant smile on Y/n’s lips faded, she didn’t even bother to reply to him. She knew that as soon as she opened her mouth, heated words would uncontrollably flow out. The girl simply bit the insides of her cheek and continued walking.

Where did the sweet Kuroo go? Who was this man beside her? Where was the person that would give his fullest attention to her?

”Then I’ll get going now.” Y/n came to a stop, looked into his hazel eyes and said. There was no point in spending time with him if all he did was to check his phone every second. “Ah, okay, see you at school.”

That’s all? He didn’t stop her, didn’t ask what was wrong. Not even a kiss goodbye?

The h/c-haired girl scoffed and walked away while her boyfriend continued in the opposite direction.

It was on and off. they would get into arguments almost every week then make up the next day. her friends told her that it was unhealthy and she should just give it up. she couldn't.

So there she was, lying beside him as he let out snores that vibrated down his throat. A smile spread across his face as he slept, a smile that Y/n had been longing to see. She had almost forgotten that he was capable of making such an expression.

She wanted to know what had made him smile like that. How could he sleep so peacefully when their relationship was on thin ice? He didn’t know that on the night of every fight they had, she would always toss and turn on her bed, countless thoughts ran through her mind as she did so.

What was he so happy about? Was he satisfied that her heart was aching the whole time?

Kuroo’s phone buzzed next to her, a notification lit the dark room up. As soon as the h/c-haired girl read the contact name, she knew. She knew the reason behind that lovely dream that he had.

It was none other than the person he told her not to worry about. Ironic isn’t it?

The realisation had stung her heart like a bee, it ached. She wanted to confront Kuroo but the thought of him walking away again held her back. It was just a friendly message asking to meet to catch up, nothing wrong, nothing fishy.

Y/n took a deep breath, she shut her eyes and diverted her thoughts away from it. If only she could warn herself about the future that bestowed upon her.

One of Nekoma’s school gyms was lit up with LED lights from the inside. The colourful lights illuminated the whole gym. It wasn’t too bright, yet it wasn’t too dark. Students chatted away at every corner of the gym, the dance floor was filled with couples and groups of friends that danced like there was no tomorrow.

It was finally the school dance, the event that everyone had been looking forward to.

Loud music played from the large speakers as Y/n made her way to Kuroo whose spikes on his hair made him recognisable through the crowd. He was chatting with his volleyball teammates, taking sips of the cup of punch in his left hand. The boys immediately shifted their gaze to Y/n who was approaching them, “ooh, Kuroo, you’ve got company!” They teased.

Kuroo spun around to see a h/c-haired girl tilting her head slightly to meet his eye.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, placing the cup back on his lips while waiting for a reply. But before Y/n could even speak, the volleyball team started chanting. “Dance with her! Dance with her!”

A small smile formed on Kuroo’s lips. It wasn’t as genuine as the one plastered on his face that night, but it was something. Y/n bit the insides of her cheeks and gulped. “Well, what do you say, babe? Care to dance?” Kuroo extended his arm for her to hold onto.

Who was she to deny him? She would do anything for him. It wasn’t an understatement, it’s just how much she loves him.

The couple made their way to the dance floor when the song “Lover” by Taylor swift played. Soon, the dance floor was once again filled with people.

Y/n placed her hands on Kuroo’s shoulders and he placed his on her waist, their feet moved to the rhythm. Her e/c-eyes looked into his hazel ones, Y/n’s lips quirked upwards. To her, it was just the two of them. Everyone in the background disappeared as she focused on the music, she was mesmerised.

But to him, he paid no attention to such details. His eyes wandered across the gym, searching for something to focus on instead of the girl in front of him. A pair of familiar eyes met his, the ones that he had yearned to see.

It was his ex-lover. And she was smiling at him, as if she was saying, “I see that your having fun without me.”

A wide-eyed Kuroo could only stay silent and remain where he was. His guts and his heart wanted to break away from Y/n’s embrace and run towards her, and say “No, never. Not without you, so please, come back to me.” It took all of his willpower to remind himself that it isn’t time. There was a girl, so in love with him that she stayed even when he was clearly using her. He wasn’t that type of person to throw someone away once they’ve done their job, right?

‘Soon,’ the said male reminded himself, ‘Soon, everything will go back to normal.’

The thought of his ex-lover standing by his side again made the corner of his mouth twitch up. He imagined that the h/c-haired girl in front of him was her. Kuroo pulled Y/n closer, resting his chin on the top of her head, they were practically hugging instead of dancing.

Taken back by the sudden intimacy, Y/n finched. Was he finally back to his normal self? The music continued as they spun around, Kuroo was now where Y/n was when they started, his back facing his ex-lover. The couple let the rhythm of the song control their movements. Finally, after months, Y/n felt a sense of comfort.

Though, her smile slipped when she looked over Kuroo’s shoulders.

There, Y/n saw her.

Of course it was her

The way her dress would outline her curves, showing just a little cleavage that would still make anyone drool over her. Including her boyfriend, Kuroo. Kuroo and her were once the school’s best couple before they broke up. School heartthrob dating the school heartthrob, a match made in heaven. Y/n could see why Kuroo dated her, she was just as beautiful as the karasuno’s volleyball manager, Kiyoko.

If they stood side by side, Y/n would look like a complete mess beside a goddess.

Y/n’s lips quivered. It was as clear as glass that Kuroo’s sudden attitude towards her was all because of his ex-lover. Heck, was it even towards Y/n?

Her heart had finally shattered. It hurts so much that she finds it humiliating. How could she not notice this earlier? The reason why Kuroo and her were fighting every week was because of his ex. It was sickening to the point that she wanted to burst out laughing right then and there. She was being used.

Kuroo was never hers. His heart only had space for one.

And that one person will never be her.

It had been months since they broke up. The nights were peaceful for her as she no longer needed to worry about their constant fights. She had graduated high-school with scholarships to Tokyo University. Life was better than what she had imagined it would be.

she had moved on. It didn’t bother her that Kuroo got back with his ex-lover weeks after they parted. Y/n expected it and couldn’t care less about Kuroo.

So why? Why was she lying down facing the ceiling and unable to get out of bed?

After being accepted into Tokyo University, her days were like a cycle. She would get out of bed, brush her teeth, and go back to bed, eyes glued to her phone. She would only leave her house if she was hungry.

Y/n scrolled through social media, watching her high-school friends spend their day with each other. Her eyelids were about to fall shut till she saw a familiar rooster head.

It was Kuroo. She had forgotten to block him from her socials…

The hazel eyed male’s lips were split into a grin, and beside him — the one taking the photo, was no longer his ex-lover. It was the love of his life. They were having the best time of his life and the look on Kuroo’s face was something that Y/n had never seen before.

with a sigh, she dropped her phone on the soft mattress of her bed and turned to face the wall.

She was sure she had moved on, so why was she the only one bedridden?

[eiraeths]

ear’s guide to writing stab wounds

disclaimer!!!: this isn’t to be used as actual medical advice there isn’t enough information at hand to properly treat someone, this is just for writing.

hemostatic (blood clotting) control is the number one priority. minor bleeding can be controlled with direct pressure to the wound. moderate bleeding may require a compression bandage as well as direct pressure. severe penetrating wounds or a nicked artery means wound packing will be necessary as well as direct pressure.

types of stab wounds:

- blunt stab wound means whatever object caused the trauma wasn’t sharp or wasn’t moving fast enough so the skin tears.

- penetrating stab wounds go deep into the skin and into the muscle.

- superficial stab wounds don’t go too far under the skin and look worse than they actually are.

steps to treatment:

1. if the object is still inside the person’s body do not remove it unless it’s to the groin, neck, or axillae (armpit) and the bleeding is hard to control.

2. remove person’s clothes to check for any other wounds and keep the area clear.

3. keep an eye on blood pressure and airway.

4. the wound type and location changes how the rest of treatment will follow.

location:

head: direct pressure is mainstay. head wounds also bleed more than any other part of the body. has the highest mortality rate.

face: severe wounds to the face means the patient has to be seated forward to keep blood out of the airway.

neck: direct pressure is mainstay. if the airway can be secured and is absolutely necessary, wound packing can be applied.

arms: depending on the severity, any of the three treatments can be used.

legs: depending on the severity, any of the three treatments can be used.

abdomen: damage to organs is highly likely. direct pressure should be applied first while surveying if the object was long enough to damage an organ. if so, wound packing may be necessary.

chest: if the wound is deep enough it can cause open pneumothorax (‘sucking’ chest wound) a seal needs to be placed over the wound to keep air from getting inside. if this isn’t done in time the affected lung will collapse.

back: can typically be treated with only direct pressure. wound packing is rarely necessary.

neck, chest, abdomen, and pelvis wounds should never be packed unless absolutely necessary.

treatment types:

direct pressure: key to any wound. can be done with whatever is available even if that means the medic needs to use their own body weight.

tourniquets: applied to the limbs. typically not applied for more than thirty minutes. in some cases, they can be left on for hours, keeping the phrase “life over limb” in mind. complications with tourniquets like nerve damage or ischemia (no blood circulation) are rare. don’t apply over a joint and apply above the wound.

wound packing: done with standard gauze and or hemostatic dressing

wound packing steps:

1. control the bleeding with pressure. use anything available even if it means t shirts or a knee.

2. place a gloved finger inside the wound too apply initial pressure. this will hurt like a bitch. also gives you an idea of what direction the blood is coming from so gauze can be used more accurately.

3. begin packing the wound with gauze. keep pressure on the wound with finger while wrapping gauze around another finger and pushing it in the wound.

4. keep packing the wound until no more gauze can fit in, and then keep direct pressure on for at least three minutes.

5. after the three minutes, use something like a bandage wrap to keep the gauze secure inside the wound.

6. splinting the area to keep it immobilized may be vital to keep the hemorrhage from restarting

7. if bleeding continues medic has to decide if they need to take out gauze and reapply with new gauze or apply more direct pressure. this is usually done by how long it takes to get to further treatment. the longer the wait the more of an incentive it becomes to repack the wound. if it’s just down the road then apply pressure.

most likely complications:

hypoxia, shock, and hypothermia are complications that need to be watched for and treated immediately if they occur.

hypoxia:

occurs when a region of the body doesn’t have enough oxygen in the tissue. can lead to organ damage, brain and heart damage being the most dangerous.

symptoms include: tachycardia (rapid heart rate), difficulty breathing, confusion, shortness of breath, anxiety, headache, and restlessness.

severe symptoms include: bradycardia (slow heart rate), extreme restlessness, and cyanosis (blue or purple tint to skin).

treatment: oxygen

shock:

life threatening condition where the body doesn’t have enough blood volume to circulate through itself. if it goes on for long enough, organ damage and death may occur.

symptoms: rapid, slow, or absent pulse, heart palpitations, rapid shallow breathing, lightheadedness, cold clammy skin, dilated pupils, chest pain, nausea, unfocused eyes, confusion, anxiety, and loss of consciousness.

treatment: if they’re not breathing, cpr is required. if they are breathing, lay on back and raise feet a foot off the ground to keep blood in the vital organs.

blood transfusion and fluids once in a hospital setting.

hypothermia: occurs when the body is losing heat quicker than it can produce. the more blood that’s lost the more likely hypothermia is to occur.

symptoms: differ based on severity

hypothermia:

in mild hypothermia: shivering, exhaustion, clumsiness, sleepiness, weak pulse, tachycardia (rapid heart rate), tachypnea (rapid breathing), pale skin, confusion, and trouble speaking.

in moderate hypothermia: bradycardia (slow heart rate), bradypnea (slow breathing), slurred speech, decline in mental function, shivering slows down, hallucinations, cyanosis (blue or purple tint to skin), muscle stiffness, dilated pupils, irregular heart rate, hypotension (decreased blood pressure), and loss of consciousness.

in severe hypothermia: shivering stops, hypotension (low blood pressure), absence of reflexes, compete muscle stiffness, fluid builds up in lungs, loss of voluntary motion, cardiac arrest (heart stops beating), coma, and death.

treatment: covering with a blanket, hat, and jacket, adding external heat like a hot pack, and if severe and in a hospital setting, warm fluids via iv, warm oxygen, and or a machine to warm the blood in the body.

if you have any questions feel free to ask! i plan on making a guide to gunshot wounds and a more in depth guide to hypothermia later.

[maaarine]

r/TwoXChromosomes: Every date I’ve had this month has attempted to choke me when we make out

—

Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny (Kate Manne, 2017)

"Often incorrectly called “choking,” non-fatal manual strangulation is inherently dangerous.

It can lead to death hours, days, even weeks afterward due to complications from the brain being deprived of oxygen.

It also causes injuries to the throat that may not leave a mark (Snyder 2015).

If you don’t know how to examine a victim’s throat, what to look for in her eyes (red spots, called “petechiae”), and the right questions to ask, it may seem no harm has come of it (Turkel 2008).

The matter will often go no further. She may not seek medical treatment. The incident will be “shrouded in silence” (Dotson 2011, 244).

Sometimes, she won’t wake up the next morning, or some morning hence.

Moreover, victims of a non-fatal attack of this kind have also been found to be some seven times more likely to become the victim of an attempted homicide by the same perpetrator (Strack, McClane, and Hawley 2001).

Yet many states in America do not have a specific statute making strangulation a crime (relegating it to a simple assault; typically a misdemeanor) (Turkel 2008).

Strangulation is a prevalent form of intimate partner violence, in addition to sometimes taking place within other family relationships.

It doesn’t appear to be limited to certain geographical areas; its existence tends to be confirmed wherever data are available. (…)

Another point to note: strangulation is torture.

Researchers draw a comparison between strangulation and waterboarding, both in how it feels—painful, terrifying—and its subsequent social meaning.

It is characterized as a demonstration of authority and domination (Sorenson, Joshi, and Sivitz 2014).

As such, together with its gendered nature, it is a type of action paradigmatic of misogyny, according to the account of it I develop in these pages.

Also characteristic is the indifference or ignorance surrounding the practice, as well as the fact that many of its victims will minimize—or may, as I’ll go on to discuss shortly, be gaslit (Abramson 2014; McKinnon 2017)."

[yandereonepieceimagines]

Crocodie with an SO who is sickly and weak for a long time. Hc please/

------------

I like this ask! Especially with a man like Crocodile. And, I actually laughed way too hard at the typo in Croco’s name. xD Especially considering the ask... Anyhow… I hope you’ll like what I have written here!

------------

Sir Crocodile

* Crocodile didn’t even glance at you the first few times you came across one another. Just another face in Rainbase. Sickly, fragile and far too soft-spoken. Not the type he usually surrounded himself with. But as he brushed past you during yet another passing, you suddenly staggered. Your legs gave way beneath you. Without thinking, his intact hand shot out, steadying you with a firm grip. You managed to whisper a strained "thank you," offering a faint smile despite the obvious pain. That moment lodged itself in his mind, no matter how much he wanted to forget it.

* He began encountering you even more frequently. Always in the same neglected corner near a clinic or beneath the sparse shade of a building, where you could often be seen clutching your chest or gasping for air.

* Initially, he found your presence irritating. You're frail, vulnerable and entirely unremarkable. To someone like him, who valued military strength above all else, you should have been easily forgettable. He rationalized his interest as mere curiosity, a passing distraction. But over time, your resilience in the face of your suffering and the quiet determination behind your weary eyes, began to affect him in ways he couldn’t explain. It unsettled him. He detested the feeling, wanted to reject it outright. And yet, he wasn’t naive. He has had enough romantic entanglements in his past to know exactly what it was he's feeling. That knowledge only frustrated him further, because of all the people who could have captured his attention like that, it had to be you; fragile, wilting and wholly unlike what he ever thought he'd want. Before long, he was unconsciously altering his routine, deliberately passing by just to see you, if only for a moment.

* He started sending people to keep tabs on you when he could not be around. And soon enough, he knew your routine down to the hour. Where you would go for medicine, which bench you rested on when your legs started to give out, how long you could walk before you started coughing blood. At this point, he knows more about your condition than some of the doctors who were trying to treat you.

* When he eventually heard that someone pushed you aside too roughly in a crowded street, that small act of disregard lighted something violent in him. He personally ensured that man would never walk through Rainbase again. Or any other place outside of the city... His body was found days later, half-buried in sand and mummified, with no one daring to ask what had happened. Crocodile didn't say a word about it. He simply watched you from afar with narrowed eyes, more protective and possessive than ever before.

* Crocodile didn’t confess. He simply declared that you’re his. He showed up one day, coated you in his tall shadow like a shield and told you that you didn’t have to suffer anymore. His voice was relaxed and resolute. The baritone tone of a man used to having every word obeyed without question. “You’re moving into Rain Dinners,” he said. “You’ll get treatment for free. The best available. Personal rooms, regular check-ups, anything you need.” He didn’t ask if you wanted it. He decided you did. You didn’t argue. You weren’t exactly in the position to and part of you was too shocked to even speak. There was something in his eyes. Dangerous, possessive and unwavering that told you resistance would be futile. He made it sound like a command, not a request. And more than that… Like a vow, sealed not entirely by affection, but more so by control.

* Crocodile uses your condition to keep you very close. He masks his possessiveness as concern, cloaking his controlling nature under the guise of protection. Any mention of independence from you is swiftly shut down with a freezing look or a firm hand resting on your shoulder, grounding you in place. He restricts your movements without being outright cruel. Always under the pretense of your health. He ensures you eat, sleep and take your medicine. He’s always watching, always ensuring you're safe, monitoring even the subtlest change in your condition.

* When you’re willingly his, he's always making sure you remember just who it is you owe your new life to, whispering it into your ear when you're half-conscious in bed, like a gritty lullaby soaked in control, and a hint of genuine care. Underlined by the fact he's never, ever smoked around you the second you'd truly caught his attention.

* To you, he's almost gentle. Touches like sandstorms held almost completely in check, careful and deliberate. He brushes your hair back when you're too tired to sit up, fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as if memorizing the feel of you. When the fever returns, he's there without needing to be called, arms around you in a protective embrace that borders on territorial. He murmurs low reassurances you can barely hear through the haze. It's the only time he ever softens. His voice quiet, his grip secure, his presence strangely comforting. But even then, there's a dangerous glint in his eyes, like he's daring fate itself to try and take you from him.

* "If you die, I'll burn the world down." He says it like a promise. Like a solid vow. Not with desperation, but with terrifying certainty. His voice carries the weight of a man who has built reputation and destroyed those of others with equal ease. And now he's turned all of that power and focus onto you. Because now that he's tasted what it feels like to love someone, he can't imagine going back to the emptiness he knew before. He won’t allow the world to take you from him. He won’t even let time try. He won't lose you. Not to illness, not to fate, not to anyone. You are his. And if the world ever dares to interfere, he would rather watch it burn with a lazy grin on his face.

[cherryredstars]

Hey Cherry🖤

could I get some sfw + nsfw hc's of Miguel with a curvy F!Reader??

please and thank you 💋

if body descriptions and gender aren't something you're comfortable adding then it's totally cool.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Curvy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Body Descriptions, Body Image/Insecurity, Labeled NSFW, 18+, 

Summary: Miguel with a curvy girlfriend!

A/N: You can have anything you want, lovely anon! (Be warned I am not curvy so!! Not talking from experienced guys!!)

Word Count: 1.4K (Edited)

SFW

First and foremost, this man is setting a boundary with you. He always wants to make you feel confident with your body, and he doesn’t want to be the reason you aren’t. Is there any part of your body that you don’t want me to make comments about? How can I make you feel better when you don’t feel good about yourself? Are there certain ways you don’t want me to touch you? What type of compliments do you want to hear? What’s the difference between a compliment and an insult to you? He’s bombarding you with questions and writing down notes so he knows the best way to love you. Nothing is too much when he loves you. He just wants to make his pretty girlfriend the confident and happy woman she deserves to be.

Okay, tone shift: This man SMACKS your ass when he walks by. I don’t mean a small little tap. I mean this man is revving his arm up and when he finally makes contact, the sound is so unbelievably loud that it scares the both of you. And Miguel just laughs about it!! Like, he’s giggling and running away, looking over his shoulder with the biggest smile as you chase after him threatening to hit him with something. It’s like a little game for him and he just loves the way it bounces when he does it, so don’t expect it to stop anytime soon. 

He likes to bite the folds on your tummy or just anywhere you have them. If he’s lying in bed with you or on the couch, he simply lifts up your shirt and just sucks them into his mouth. If you get ‘mad’ at him and ask him what he’s doing, he just looks up at you with the fakest innocent eyes and just shrugs. If you keep staring at him and tell him to stop, he’ll very slowly let go of your skin like a dog who was told to let go of something. He’ll be pouting the rest of the day right after you tell him to stop. 

He’s constantly watching you. If he’s on a call or mid-conversation with someone and you walk by, he loses his train of thought and his eyes just follow you. He’s drinking in everything he can. He’s staring at the way your curves move as you walk, the way your clothes look on your body, just everything and anything. You have to hide your giggle by biting your lip when you spot him wipe his mouth. Miguel’s always paranoid that he’s actually drooling when he sees you. 

He hates when you experience chafing just as much as you do. But he’s always there to help you with the healing process. If it’s between your thighs, he’s telling you to lay in bed or on the couch all day so it doesn’t get more irritated or get worse. He’s running around the house, getting you everything you need and doing your day to day tasks for you. His pretty girl always gets the princess treatment! Every few hours, he’ll make sure to rub in your ointments and jellies over the affected skin, pressing a small kiss right next to it. 

If you experience back pain or sore boobs, he’ll always be available for massages. And it’s not even in a sexual way. He’ll tell you to lay down and he’ll massage any sore spots on your body, rubbing in your favorite lotion and kissing the skin until it feels better. He’s holding up and kneading your boobs for you when they get too heavy as you walk around the house. He’s always cooing in your ear how bad he feels that you don’t feel good and he’s asking you if there is anything more he can do for you. He’ll even suggest you take a break and he’ll finish up whatever it is you were doing. 

No one, and I mean NO ONE, makes comments about you out in public. Not since you’ve started dating Miguel. Whenever you’re out in public, Miguel stares down anyone who walks towards you and starts opening their mouth. If the group of white old ladies start whispering while pointing at you while you’re looking through racks of clothing, he’s telling you he needs to go to the bathroom before walking over to the group of ladies who instantly disappear with widened eyes. When you raise your brow and ask him why he’s back so quickly, he just shrugs and replies, “It’s out of order. And you know I can’t stay away from my gorgeous girl.” He knows he can’t protect you from every rude remark someone makes about your body, be he sure as hell will try. 

He knows the struggles in finding correctly fitting clothes. I mean, he’s 6’9 after all! So, it’s not a surprise when he comes home with a little box for you when you found something you really wanted, but they didn’t have it in your size or it didn’t fit correctly. It’s always an almost exact replica of what you wanted. Whenever you ask him where he got it, he tells you he got it custom made or he made it himself. I mean, if this man can make his own technologically advanced spider-suit, why wouldn’t he use those skills to make sure his girlfriend is dressed however she wants? 

Miguel hates it when you think you can’t do something because of your body type. Whenever you say you want to do or try something and then say, “But I can’t because..” and motion towards your body, frustration builds in his chest. Not at you, never at you, but at everyone that ever told you your body type means you can’t try certain things. He’s always encouraging you to try it and he’s more than happy to do it with you to make you more comfortable. 

NSFW

If you’re having one of those days were you hate your body, Miguel is holding your face still as he fucks you in front of a mirror. He’s pounding your pretty little pussy, making you watch every second of it. He’s leaning forward, whispering how pretty your body looks recoiling and taking him. “Such a pretty fucking girl, taking my cock so well. You think anyone else would be able to take me so well? Got the perfect fucking body for me, hermosa.”

Whenever he’s having sex with you, he marvels at how your boobs overflow in his mouth and how your ass spills from his large hands. His mouth is always gravitating towards your nipples and his hands constantly squeeze and slap your ass.

He likes having you on top of him. He loves watching you ride his cock, holding your ass in his hands as your boobs bounce every time you move. He’s completely mesmerized, moaning and grunting under you as he grabs your body. 

Your body is always littered with hickeys and bite marks. Especially on the areas you feel insecure about. Each bruise and mark represents an affirmation Miguel made towards your body, hoping you’d love your body as much as he does. 

Miguel is completely fine with fucking your thighs or tits. He loves the way they completely surround his cock. He’s growling out how fucking hot it is and he’s staining your skin with his cum in minutes. 

He wants you to suffocate him. He’s pleading for you to sit on his face. He 100% has gotten on his knees asking for you to. And he doesn’t mean any of that hovering bullshit. If you even attempt that, he’s growling and pulling you completely onto his face. He’s happily lapping up your sweet juices from your tight cunt, the most lust filled eyes staring up at you in ecstasy. He’s a desperate, moaning mess whenever you ride his face, one of his hands leaving your waist to jerk himself off at the sight of you. When you finally cum and get off of him, he has a wide, dazed smile on his face as he tries to catch his breath.

Whenever that man masturbates, he’s pumping his cock to images of your body. Plays scenarios in his head with your body on full display for him, begging him to make you feel good. He’s moaning and cursing at the pretty little stretchmarks that cover your skin, wishing he could lick them. He wishes his hands were holding onto your body and not on his cock. He’s mumbling your name and moaning about how perfect your body is. When he explodes, he sits there panting and letting out an annoyed groan. Now he misses his pretty girl :(

I hope these are okay and I didn’t say anything that was offensive or uncomfortable for all my lovely, curvy girlies!!!

[jayaury]

Trip to the Stars

Another older story now available for free! And plenty more on you know where: https://www.patreon.com/c/JayAury

#

“I don’t care how much those damn squids are offering! Their world is a fucking sewer, and I’ll be the one deciding where the cruise heads to. And if they don’t like it, then they can stick themselves in airlock and blow it out the void!”

Devon Logan touched his ear, killing the frequency and shifting to the next one as he swept through the dark steel admin hall of the Stellar Fete. He shrugged his shoulders, the microfibers of his suit shifting smoothly over his body like a second skin. He really disliked the thing, but the future hereditary manager of Logan Cruises had to look the part, and he did at that. Dozens of juvenative treatments, bio tinkering and nanomachines had perfected him to his role as heir to the pleasure barge’s long line of directors. He wasn’t just born for the role, but molded to it.

He swept a hand through his pale hair, blowing out a sigh as he stepped into the elevator, the door sliding shut and shooting him up into the guts of the ship, towards the sacred heart of the director’s offices. Stars but it was exhausting managing the business. Especially as they were getting closer to launch. A dozen generations had built the Stellar Fete into the sector’s premier vacation yacht. The future leaders of worlds, megacorps, and systems enjoyed its services when they needed a break from the turmoil of their work. But that meant he never got one. He groaned, cracking his neck.

He needed a drink or a stim. Maybe both.

The elevator beeped as it hit his office floor, the curving door sliding open with a hiss. “Julianne!” he said as he marched towards his office. “Hold all calls. I have some personal business to take care of.”

“Of course, sir.”

Devon was halfway into his office when that voice actually registered. Midstride he stopped, walked backwards, and stared at the woman in his secretary’s chair.

Last time he checked, it had been occupied by a slim young woman in a skin-tight bodysuit whose short hair failed to hide her large eyes and the access implants in her neck.

Now, however, it was occupied by a woman as curvy as one of the finest pleasure bimbos from the gene cutters. Her green breasts were huge, cradled in a tight band of red cloth. Another swept between her legs, hiding the treasure that lay between. A perfect hourglass of womanly curves, her hair was bright red and cascaded over her shoulders like the molten surface of a dwarf star. Her eyes were deep, dark, and her smile pretty and radiating a sweetness that made his cock tingle in the tight confines of his pants.

“Julianne?” he said skeptically. Had his secretary gone to the gene modders in the last few turns?

“Afraid not, sir,” the woman said, her voice carrying a thrumming purr that seemed to shoot straight into his animal brain and ache in his crotch. “My name is Amoora, your new secretary.”

“What happened to my old one?” he said.

“She had an unfortunate accident, sir.”

“Accident?”

“Owing the Drax such a large sum of money tends to invite them. The Stellar Fete’s system acted quickly to replace her, given how close you were coming to launch day.”

“... Uh huh. And it hired you?” Devon said.

“I was considered the best match for your current needs, director.”

Devon didn’t doubt that. How could he? The ship’s AI system had guided the last four generations of directors from cradle to the grave. If the system said that Amoora would make his best assistant, then he had to assume it knew what it was doing.

Still…

There was something about the whole situation that sat strangely with him. Some niggling suspicion. It certainly didn’t involve Amoora herself. She was exactly his type, which was possibly why the system had hired her on.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Well, no calls.”

“Of course, sir.”

With a lingering look on her, he slipped into his office, the door sliding shut in his wake with a magnetic hum. He exhaled heavily and made his way across the large barren room, taking a seat behind the black plasteel desk that dominated the center. As soon as he sat down the system came alive, screens projecting above his desk in glowing blue blocks, the walls swirling in soft violets as it projected images of the Stellar Fete from every angle.

“System?” he said. “Did you hire Amoora?”

“Confirmed, sir,” the AI said, voice flat and even. “It was determined the most efficient course of action given current circumstances.”

Ah, of course. It would be thinking of that. Devon rubbed his chin with thought. “What sort of alien is she?”

“A mooma, sir.”

“Mooma?” He frowned. “Never heard of them.”

“They are an uncommon species, director.”

That he could believe. He’d seen hundreds of thousands of alien species over the cycles, but even those were a mere fraction of sentient aliens in the galaxy.

Yet there was something about her that made him uneasy. What that was eluded him, but he still felt it keenly. An almost animal instinct not of danger, but of something else.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “System?”

“Director?”

“Send in… Amoora,” he said. He considered himself an appropriately wary person, and though he trusted the system to make certain decisions, he was still director, and deciding on who would be personally assisting him was certainly in his purview. And if he didn’t like what he heard, he’d just fire her. There were plenty of others who would be eager to take the job, that much he knew for sure.

“Of course, sir,” the system said.

He killed the program with a sigh and tapped one of the glowing keys in his desk, causing the screens to vanish with a blink. Within moments the door slid open once more and Amoora stepped inside.

He’d thought he’d gotten a good look at her before, but the one he was receiving now only further reinforced what a gorgeous specimen of alien beauty she was. Though her figure had a striking hourglass curve, there was a mature plumpness to her, especially in the chest and hips, further emphasising her almost primal femininity. She struck him with her loveliness, something the meager straps she wore as clothing did nothing to hide, and even seemed at pains to emphasize. Her red hair was long, framing her gorgeous face, soft and sweet with a smile that just seemed to say, ‘I’m going to make it all better.’

“Please,” he said, gesturing at the chair across from him. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, sitting delicately across from him, smiling warmly. As she did, Devon caught a whiff of her perfume. Something sweet and floral. Tantalizing and yet, strangely familiar. He took another sniff, trying to figure out what it was.

“Is something the matter, sir?” Amoora said.

“Hm? Oh, no. Nothing. Nothing at all.” He cleared his throat. “You ah-”

“Because you seemed distracted, sir.”

“Hm?”

Amoora smiled again at him. “It must be very stressful, sir, managing this whole ship. A wonderful pleasure cruise, certainly. I’ve heard it highly recommended. It’s only a shame you can’t enjoy its services as well.”

“Well, you know,” he said, both flattered and oddly uncomfortable. “It takes a lot of work to keep this ship running.”

“But you surely consider some relief, don’t you?” she asked gently.

“I have a few ways to relax.”

“Would you like to be shown another?”

“Hm?”

Amoora rose back to her feet and Devon stiffened as she moved around the desk and behind him. He knew he didn’t need to worry. The system would respond instantly if it felt like he was in danger, and no weapons were allowed on board, under threat of jettisoning into space. But he still sucked in a breath as her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

“What are you… you… Ohhhh…”

Devon groaned as her fingers began to flex and knead his shoulders, digging into him in a way that seemed to loosen every tightened, aching muscle.

“Your system did mention you get so awfully stressed, sir,” Amoora said, her voice soft and soothing while her hands did their work. “It mentioned it had been looking to hire someone skilled in that. In helping eeeease all that stress. Help your relaaaax after all your work.”

“D-did it…” Devon managed to say as Amoora’s hands did their slow, methodical work.

“Oh yes. You have such a loyal system, Devon. It makes me so happy to know how much you need me. You work so very hard. You deserve to relax a bit. To feel good. To feel better. To feel eeeeasy.”

Devon was feeling relaxed. Easy. Like a great burden were evaporating from his shoulders. He sank slowly into the chair, groaning, his head coming to rest against something soft. Something that certainly wasn’t the back of his chair. He opened his eyes and found himself tilted back, Amoora’s face hovering over his, smiling. Which meant it was her soft breasts which were currently cushioning his head.

Devon felt a slow flush rise to his face. “I-”

“I do hope you’re enjoying my work, director,” Amoora said sweetly as her hands again resumed their work on his shoulders. “And I would just like you to know that if you need anything… anything at all, I’d be delighted to care for you. Provide you with what you need. Like a massage. Like a big… soft… needy body for you to fuck…”

“You…”

“Aren’t you horny, sir?” she cooed, her lidded eyes bright as she gazed down at him. Pretty as galaxies. Swirling softly. “Would you like me to… help you relax… further?”

Devon inhaled deeply, taking in a great lungful of the alien’s pleasant perfume, the warmth of her massage oozing through him wonderfully. He was so very relaxed. And he surely did feel uncomfortable in only one way, owing to how his pants constricted his cock. “Hmm… Well, if you’re offering…”

“Of course,” Amoora said, stepping around him, her breasts wobbling as she lowered herself to her knees before him, eyes twinkling teasingly up at him. “I must obey my employer. It is only natural to ensure he is satisfied with my… service…”

She gave a wink, and her fingers undid the front of his pants. Devon groaned as his cock sprang free, throbbing with desire for the shapely green woman. Amoora’s eyes brightened even further at the sight, her smile deepening adoringly. “Oh sir,” she breathed, wrapping her hand around his root. “Such an impressive specimen.”

Devon chuckled. “How could it not be?” he said. “I’ve been designed to be… mmm… peak of human physical prowess.”

“And it shows, sir,” Amoora said, moaning softly as her tongue ran up along his underside, making him gasp and groan. “Mmmm. Such a powerful man, sir. It truly is an honour to… serve you…”

Devon was rapidly coming to the same conclusion. It really was a wonderful thing to have such a skilled pair of hands helping him out. Not even the whores on the pleasure deck could match the touch of the goddess currently kneeling between his legs.

“May I take you in my mouth, sir?” Amoora said just before her tongue made another loving lap up his cock. “I would be… ever so grateful…”

“Yeah. Sure. That sounds… sounds good,” he gasped.

“My thanks, master,” Amoora said, tilted his shaft towards her open mouth, and took him deep.

“F-fuuuuucking staaaaaars!” Devon groaned as her lips sank down. Devon knew he had a big cock. He’d been designed with one. Yet Amoora took it with ease, swallowing him to the hilt and beginning to adoringly bob.

“Fuck!” Devon gasped, grasping her head, her red hair soft beneath his hand as he pushed her down on his cock, fucking her mouth with growing urgency. “Fuck! Yes. Just like that. Fucking take my cock. Oh stars. Oh staaaaars that’s gooood!”

“Mmmmm,” Amoora moaned, the sound vibrating through his manhood as she bobbed even faster. Even harder. His cock squeezed in the warm vice of her lips, mouth and throat. Devon had long prided himself on his iron self-control, but that couldn’t save him from the suction of the mooma’s mouth.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Devon groaned, shuddering as he came, balls tightening as he unloaded great bursts of his pearly seed into Amoora’s mouth.

The mooma hummed, her eyes lidded as she gently suckled on his cock, her throat working as she swallowed every drop of his load. As Devon sank into his chair, panting, Amoora’s lips dragged off his shaft, popping free only for her tongue to tease around her plump lips lovingly, her lashes fluttering as if she were on the brink of sharing in his orgasm.

“Mmm. Thank you, sir,” she said with a smile. “Are you satisfied with my… service?”

“Huh?” Devon said, stirring from his rapture. “Oh. Yeah. Yes. I… I am…”

“Excellent. Then, I will be outside sir,” she said, rising, her plump breasts wobbling in her impossibly tight top and stirring Devon’s cock once more. “Please, do call me if you need anything else.”

Devon watched her turn, hips swinging as she strode back out the door, which closed with a hydraulic hiss behind her. Devon sighed, sinking back into his chair, amazed not only at her, but himself. He could normally fuck almost a dozen women before feeling so sated, but he wasn’t even sure he could get up from his chair after that blowjob.

But he wasn’t worried.

Oh no.

His body was designed to adapt to any and all circumstances. Before a week was out, he knew, he would be able to fuck that beautiful mooma into a puddle of moaning lust.

Yeah.

But… later.

For now, he was feeling more relaxed than he had in years and years. With a sigh he eased back into his seat, breathing in the air thick with Amoora’s perfume.

Maybe this secretary business wouldn’t be so bad after all…

#

Devon made it a point to make his way through the ship when they were preparing to begin another cruise. It did well for the crew to see him taking a personal interest in preparations. It ensured they kept in mind that the ship didn’t merely run in the void, but that there was someone at the head commanding them.

That said, he still hadn’t decided on which planet to make the destination of the next cruise. It was a bit of a conundrum for sure, but he knew he’d come across one soon enough. He always did. And the aid of his new secretary was surely making it easier.

Speaking of…

“Do you have those world maps for me yet?” he asked as they strolled through the cavernous gallery overlooking a shipboard theatre. He glanced over the rail, watching a number of drones hum around the seats, cleaning them with mechanical precision.

“Of course, sir,” Amoora said, passing him a data slate as they stepped into the tight confines of a waiting elevator.

He took the slate, rolling his shoulders as he felt the sleeves of his suit slide down his arms. Odd. It wasn’t fitting him as tightly as it used to. He’d have to get maintenance to take a look at that.

He was still looking through the files when the elevator hissed, doors sliding open and revealing that they were on the recreation deck. Devon paid little attention as he moved onto the floor, followed closely by Amoora. He was vaguely aware of the great windows that looked out onto open space, the view magnificent, even if the refueling station currently took up a fair bit of it, along with the innumerable shuttles zipping between it and open space.

“Hmm…” Devon mused, a flick of the finger paging through the brochures of hundreds of resort worlds. “No. No. Not too good. I think that one had a civil war. Pirates in that sector… Wait,” he said, stopping in the middle of the pool room, whose walls shimmered with the glowlamps under the water, reflecting a purple and blue veined with the white of waves. Devon squinted at the tropical beaches on the screen of his slate. “What’s this one?”

Amoora leaned over his shoulder, which gave him another whiff of her sweet, floral perfume. “Oh, that’s Mandina, sir.”

“Mandina?” he said. “I’ve never heard of that one. It’s not on our usual list.”

“No, sir,” Amoora said, tapping the screen, which proved distracting as her impressive, soft breasts squished against his back. “It’s a relatively unknown resort world, but very popular among moomas.”

“It is?” Devon said.

“Yes, sir. Which is likely why you’ve never heard of it. Moomas are very… private about our recreation worlds. Many slavers would delight in paying us a visit.”

Devon glanced from a pic of egg-shaped habs scattered about blooming jungles, his eyes taking in Amoora’s figure once more. “I… imagine so,” he said, then shook his head, clearing his throat. “Well,” he said, returning his attention to the screen, walking on. “It’s unusual, and we only visit worlds I’ve personally vetted, so it’s unlikely we’ll choose it.”

“Considering it is already quite generous, sir,” Amoora said.

Devon felt his skin tingle with her praise. “Yes, well… it’s very unlikely still,” he said as they passed from the pool room and into the gymnasium where a number of the resident fitness trainers were in the midst of practice.

“Good cycle, sir,” one of the fitness instructors said.

“Hello,” he said, nodding absently, then stopped and looked in surprise. For a moment he thought that Amoora had wandered past him, but no. Looking closer, he quickly made out a number of differences in the stunning green woman standing not far. As gorgeously curvy as Amoora, this mooma however had a smaller nose and was slightly shorter than his secretary.

“You are…” he began.

“A new hire, captain,” Amoora said, nodding at the other mooma. “This is Majaala.”

“New? But-”

“She comes highly recommended, sir, and will surely be a welcome addition to attend your guests.”

“I aim to please,” Majaala said, dipping in a bow, her breasts bouncing with the motion.

Devon stared at her, for a moment too shocked to formulate any words. He… he personally examined every new hire’s file before they were brought on. How had he missed that? Had he forgotten?

Who had hired her?

He suddenly looked sharply at Amoora, who smiled sweetly. A sudden suspicion rose in his mind, but he couldn’t make a scene here. It wouldn’t look good to make it seem like he wasn’t in control.

“I need to speak to you. Now,” he said.

“Of course, sir. There’s an empty room over this way.”

“Good. Great,” Devon said impatiently, following her.

She led him into an adjoining room, where massage tables sat in rows and tanning beds were propped up along the walls like missile pods waiting to fire. A soothing darkness radiated from a number of large dark lamps, in whose glow Amoora seemed almost radiant in her green skin and lush red hair.

Devon faced the mooma with a scowl as the doors sealed shut behind them “Now look-”

“Are you upset, sir?”

“Of course I’m upset! How was she hired? Who did it?”

“Why, I did, of course,” she said with a puzzled look. “Why are you mad, sir? Didn’t I do a good job?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Isn’t it?”

She suddenly took a step forward. Devon blinked, retreating in surprise, only for the back of his legs to hit a massage bench. He fell back to sit on the padded seat as Amoora moved in closer, her wobbling breasts eye level, her perfume hitting him in another waft of sweetness.

“I only wanted to serve you better, sir,” Amoora said, pouting, her soft red lips pushed out.

“You-”

“I know how very stressed you are, sir,” Amoora said, her hand coming up, brushing his cheek. Devon felt a shiver race through him, like a spark of electric delight. “I know how hard you work for this ship. How much you give to it. How much it weighs on you. I just wanted to take some of the pressure off. Was that wrong of me, sir?”

“I ah…”

“Is that not something a good assistant should do?” she asked.

Devon breathed in, gasping as her scent seemed to fill him. A floral and sweet medley that rushed into his limbs and head like a stimulant shot, making him float as if the gravity drive had broken. He tried to hold onto his anger, knowing if he let his authority slip it would be near impossible to get it back. But… well… it was hard to get mad at her. He could see how she might have thought she was helping him. And she was still so new to the job. Some errors were to be expected, he supposed.

“Well… I suppose you were trying to help,” he said slowly.

“Of course, sir,” Amoora said, her face smoothing into a happy smile. A look that made his heartbeat quicken and tension unknot in his stomach. “I’m only here to serve you. To serve such an impressive man. To help him any way I can.

“Such as finding the most capable girls to staff your ship,” she added, pushing in closer, her breasts practically in his face, her hands planting themselves on the bench beside him, trapping him with her body. “Because I know your time is far too valuable to waste vetting a bunch of silly bimbos coming to work on the Stellar Fete. Your mind is always occupied with much more… important things.”

“O-oh,” Devon breathed, eyes riveted to the perfect green orbs bound up in her top. “That ah… I mean, that’s true, of course.”

“Of course it is, sir. And you did hire me, sir. So why shouldn’t I know the specifics of what you’re looking for? It’s really a testament to your own brilliance, Devon, that I felt sure I could take that task on. All for you. My brilliant, handsome, strong director...”

She… she had a point, Devon had to admit. After all, if she felt confident assuming what his orders would be, wasn’t that just testament to how right he had been in hiring her? And the other mooma was clearly a good fit for the ship. If she was half as good at massage as Amoora, then there wasn’t any real reason to protest. Certainly, he doubted the guests would.

“Yeah,” Devon said, starting to smile as he watched Amoora’s immense breasts rise and fall. Rise and fall with her slow, heavy breathing... “Yeah. That… that’s true. Yeah,” he repeated, breathing deeply of her wonderful perfume. “Yeah…”

“You know, Devon,” Amoora said, leaning in closer, her breasts wobbling mere inches from his face, his breathing growing heavy. Shallow. “I find a man who takes charge so… deeply attractive. Moomas all do. A man who knows what he wants. Who’ll do what he needs to. Who’ll be such a… good boy…”

“Yeah…” Devon breathed. Then blinked. “W-wait. Did you say a-”

“A translation approximation, Devon,” Amoora said easily as she straddled his lap, her soft body pressing down on him, her breasts practically smothering him. “Not entirely accurate, but the mooma term is quite loaded. Much like you. Oh sir,” she groaned, her hips rocking, grinding herself on his bulge, making Devon groan. “I can feel how pent up you are. You mustn’t do that, sir. It might inhibit your decision making, being so horny. So backed up with your virile… hot… cum. We must take care of that, mustn’t we?”

Well, Devon had no objections to that! “Sure,” he said, grinning as he reached up, cupping the immense globes of her breasts, his fingers finding the catch of the strap. “Let’s… let’s do that…”

Amoora moaned as the strap clicked, fairly popping free, her immense breasts wobbling into the open, practically slapping his face with their glorious heft. He leaned in at once, lifting them up, smothering himself with her immense breasts contentedly.

“Mmmm,” Amoora moaned. “Oh sir, you do love a big pair of breasts, don’t you?”

Devon certainly wasn’t going to deny that. Especially a pair as gorgeously big and soft as Amoora’s. They fairly overflowed from his hands, soft as marshmallows. His cock throbbed in the prison of his pants, straining to be free and taste the gorgeous green alien astride him, still rubbing herself against his throbbing manhood.

“Oh Devon…” Amoora moaned as he fondled her tits. “Devon, I need you. I want you. Devon… Let me fuck you. I need you…”

“Y-yes,” Devon gasped, his head spinning and body throbbing with the surging desire racing through his veins. As he felt her hips cock, her hands slide the strap that served as her panties down. “Yes. F-fuck you. Gotta… ah…”

He felt her hands on his loose clothes, stroking him, stripping him. The fabric automatically separated around his chest, peeling off to reveal his toned abdominals. He groaned as the seam split around his pants, his cock fairly springing upwards, only to be ground under the groove of Amoora’s pussy as she rocked forward.

“Ohhhhhh!” Amoora moaned, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the hollow spaces of Devon’s body. “Oh Devon. I can feel it. Feel how horny you are. Oh sir, it must be so… so hard to think when you’re… ah… when you’re s-so haaaard. Please. Oh please, sir. Let me… let me relieve you. Let me free you… ha… of that b-burden…”

Devon had no doubt that she was referring to the burden of his arousal. What else could it be? And it was a burden. His balls ached with his need. His head throbbed and body burned with every rapid beat of his heart. He was so horny. So desperate to cum.

“A-Amoora,” he gasped from between her breasts. “I… I need…”

“I know, sweet thing,” Amoora said, arms moving around him, pulling his head deeper into the valley of her breasts. “I know. And I’m going to give you everything you need. Oh Devon… I’m ready. Ready for you. Ah,” she gasped, her body rising, lifting off his lap, allowing his cock to spring up to throbbing attention before her hips fell, sheathing him inside her pussy.

And into heaven.

“Oh f-fuuuuuuc!” Devon moaned as she planted herself atop his cock.

“Oh stars yessss!” Amoora moaned, her hips rising, falling, fucking herself greedily atop his cock, her breasts bouncing around his face, smothering him in her titflesh and the sweet, suffocating perfume she wore. “Yes. Yesss! Oh Devon. Yes! Give me your cock. Fuck me. Cum in me. Cum in Amoora! My good boy. My good… ha… horny booooy!”

She cried out, hilting atop him, quivering with moaning lust, and as she did, Devon felt the sudden tightness of orgasm within him. His cock plowing up into her hungry pussy, his hands squeezing her ample tits.

“Yes! Yes! Oh f-fucking stars yesssss!” Devon cried, the sudden euphoria of release rushing through him, his cock twitching as he unloaded into the mooma’s wonderful pussy. Bucks of his hips drained him into the gorgeous alien, riding high on his orgasm. At last, he groaned, falling back onto the bench, panting hard and fast, feeling drained, light, as if the oxygen being pumped into the room had been sharply reduced.

He stared up at Amoora as the mooma leaned over him, her lovely red lips smiling as her hand stroked his chin. “Did you enjoy that, director?” she asked sweetly.

“Y-yes,” he gasped, feeling drained, yet pleasantly so. “V-very.”

“I’m so glad, sir. I did so want to make sure you knew you could trust me with… anything. Do you, sir? Do you trust me like a good boy should?”

Those words again. He felt a shiver, but not of distaste. For some reason, being called a good boy by Amoora was oddly… good. It felt right. Well, maybe it was a touch degrading, but if it was a crude translation of a term of affection, he supposed he cold tolerate it. Especially if good boys got such affection from a mooma.

Oh yes. He shivered in delight, his cock stirring anew. Yes. He’d very much like to have more of that.

Amoora felt him stiffen and smiled. “Oh director,” she said, stretching atop him, pressing her heavy breasts into his chest, her face hovering over his. “Is my good boy still horny?”

“Maybe a… a little,” he admitted with what he hoped was a cocky grin.

Amoora giggled, her eyes warm and smile comforting as if she were wrapping him in wooly clouds. “Mmm. How wonderful. I do love a man who can keep going. But don’t worry, director,” she said, leaning in closer. “Amoora is going to make sure you’re nice… and satisfied…”

Her lips descended on his, and Devon groaned, feeling his cock thicken and harden once more, her hips beginning to rise and fall, fucking him beneath her anew.

It was starting to look like hiring Amoora might have been the smartest thing he’d ever done…

#

Preparation to travel proceeded swiftly once Amoora took a large hand in organizing the Stellar Fete. Devon still insisted on touring the ship, but he was less and less surprised by the number of moomas which were filling up the vessel. It seemed like they were in every department, even in the ones which didn’t require their personal touch. But the remaining human and alien crew didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, they seemed to delight in the presence of the busty green aliens. He’d walked in on more than one crewman in a dark corridor, wrapped in the arms of a gorgeous mooma, moaning as his mouth was plundered in a kiss, or his lips adored huge, bouncy green breasts.

But Devon didn’t have much time for wandering these days. It tired him, and he had a hard time finding clothes that fit him. For some reason his body seemed to have grown sleeker. Slenderer. He wondered what that meant? He’d certainly been getting plenty of exercise. Amoora seemed inexhaustible in her affections, always ready to fuck him, suck him off, or do anything he needed. Honestly, it seemed like he hadn’t managed to check the system in weeks. If he wasn’t being fucked by the gorgeous mooma, he was busy recovering from their almost constant liaisons.

“Director?”

Devon stirred from his musings, swiveling in his chair towards his desk. The neon glow of the holo screens hummed before him, the AI’s voice droning in the air.

“Yes?” he said.

“I require confirmation of our destination.”

“Our destination?” he said, then shook himself, a sudden shot of adrenaline panic racing through him. “Fuck! I… I completely forget. System? Bring up the potential locations. I need to-”

“I do not understand, director. The location has been determined. I merely require confirmation.”

Devon stared, uncomprehending, at the screen. “Wh… what? Show me.”

A screen expanded before him, revealing a familiar scene. Egg-shaped habs on a tropical landscape, the gorgeous sea and a sprawling alien jungle of greens, violets, and reds in a sweeping blur of hues.

“Mandina?” he said blankly.

“Yes, sir. Your office has selected it. I only require your final confirmation and we can begin preparing to take on passengers.”

“But… I never… I didn’t…”

Understanding hit him like the shock of decompression. His eyes snapped to the door of his office and he jabbed the intercom.

“Amoora!”

“Yes, director?”

“Get in here!”

The door slid open and Amoora stepped inside, a loving smile on her face. “Yes, sir?” she said softly.

Devon opened his mouth, but even as he did he found his eyes wandering over her figure. The rage that had flared within him faded as if smothered under a heavy blanket. In its place, a tingling ached through him, his cock instantly rock hard for the gorgeous mooma as she stood, smiling politely in the doorway, all curves and willing loveliness.

“You wanted to see me?” Amoora said.

Devon jolted back to the present. “Y-yes. Yes. I did,” he said more sternly. “I ah… Look, did you…”

He trailed off as Amoora moved into the room, her wide hips swaying like a pendulum with her steps, her breasts wobbling in her tight, tight top in such a way that arrested the eye. Her presence seemed to fill the room. Devour his view. “Yes, Devon?” she said, coming around the desk. He heard a click and suddenly, the strap of her bra was floating down, leaving free her immense breasts to wobble tantalizingly into view. “What did I do?”

“You… you… L-look,” he said, trying to sound forceful. “Did you register this… this place as our destination?”

Amoora lazily glanced over at the hovering screen. Her smile widened. “Oh yes, Devon. I did. I just know it’s going to be such a big hit.”

“Amoora, that wasn’t your decision! It’s mine to make. Where we go. Where the ship goes. That’s the job of the director! The job I was born to do! You can’t just… I mean...”

“Of course it is, Devon,” Amoora said, leaning in suddenly close. “I would never think of overruling you.”

Devon leaned back, pressed into his chair. Yet even as he did, an equally powerful yearning surged through him, begging him to move forward. To bury his face in the gorgeous orbs of her immense breasts. To nuzzle and kiss them like a good boy.

A good boy…

Devon grit his teeth, trying to resist the aching lethargy that nearly made him swoon as soon as he inhaled her perfume. Fuck, he was so hard. His cock was shamelessly bulging in his loose uniform. “Amoora, I-”

“And I think you’d love to go to Mandina, Devon,” she said smoothly, moving forward. “I’m sure you and all the sexy, rich, powerful young heirs looking for a nice relaxing vacation would just adore visiting a planet just… filled with lonely moomas, needing to spoil and fuck and adore cute, adorable, obedient humans.”

“I… I…”

“Just like you do,” Amoora said, planting her hands on the back of his chair, arching her body, pressing her bouncy breasts nearly into his face. “I bet you’d just… love to visit my world. Just adore to relax on the beach with your pretty assistant. Your gorgeous, caring mooma mistress. It would be so nice to relax, Devon. So nice to just… stop… thinking…”

“S-stop?” Devon said, his voice slurring a little, his body feeling light again, as if ready to float up into Amoora’s gorgeous body.

“Yes,” Amoora breathed, leaning in closer, and Devon groaned in despair and unspeakable pleasure as her breasts pressed against his face, nearly burying him between their pillowy valley, suffocating him in her wonderful perfume. “The director doesn’t need to think. That’s what he hires his secretary to do. That’s why she hired all those lovely mooma to run his ship for him. He doesn’t need to worry himself about all those stressful things when relaxing is so much easier. So much better. So much more… pleasurable…”

Devon moaned, the wonderful weakness spreading further through him. Consuming him in a wave of pink bliss as Amoora straddled him on his chair, rubbing her pussy against his bulge.

“Do you want that, Devon?” Amoora said, giving her chest a bounce, jiggling her tits around his face. “Do you want me to make you so very happy? So very easy? Just say yes, Devon. And I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never need to work again. Never need to worry. You’ll be such a good boy. A good stud. All you have to do is let me fuck you. Pleasure you. Adore you. All you have to do is give in, Devon. Just let mistress do all the thinking for you. You’ll still be director. You’ll still be the boss. You’ll just do everything I say. Won’t that be so much easier? So much better?

“Say yes, Devon,” Amoora moaned, her body pressing down on him, her curves so soft, so warm, so glorious. “Say that’s what you want.”

It was.

It was so clearly what he wanted.

Every fiber cried out to be hers. To agree. To do anything Amoora wanted and more. And would it really be so bad? Wouldn’t it be so good to give in? To submit? To know only pleasure?

Some part of Devon railed against the idea, but he could come up with no counter arguments to her. He did want all she suggested. He did yearn to be hers. Her obedient boy. Her horny stud. Why shouldn’t he say yes?

There was no reason to say no.

And so, Devon moaned, “Yessss!”

Amoora smiled, eased back, releasing his gasping face from the depths of her breasts. “Good boy,” she purred.

Devon sighed, sinking back into his seat, a smile hovering on his lips as if all the tension, all the doubts floated from him. Drained away with that desperate moan of admission. He felt her hand on his, pulling him to his feet. The door at the back of the room hissed open, admitting him to his state room, his private sanctuary.

A low glow permeated the interior, washing the walls in purples, oranges and reds like galaxies burning their way around them. Amoora eased him down onto the bedding, her fingers trailing down his suit, the loose fabric opening easily.

“Undress, Devon,” she breathed, barely visible in the dark lights.

Devon did so, shrugging out of his suit, letting her pull it off him, revealing his toned, slender physique. Amoora cooed, leaning over him, kissing her way down his chest, every press of her lips making his breath hitch.

“Devon. So handsome,” she breathed. “So sexy. So perfect for mistress. I knew you would be. I knew you wanted this.”

“Ah!” Devon gasped as her lips reached his cock. Amoora’s eyes glowed softly in the gloom, her red lips seeming to glisten and shine as she kissed her way up his shaft, her hands hefting her immense breasts and wrapping them around his cock. Devon was far from small, yet her breasts were so big his manhood was utterly swallowed in them.

“Oh fuuuuuuck!” Devon groaned as Amoora bounced her breasts around him, squeezing his cock in that sweet valley of pleasure.

“Is it good, Devon?” Amoora whispered, her voice seeming to echo in the air. “Are mistress’s big breasts so good and soft around your cock?”

“Yes. Oh s-stars yessss!” Devon cried.

“And isn’t it so worth it?” she cooed, leaning down, her lips kissing the head of his cock whenever it emerged, sending shocks of glorious pleasure surging through him. “Isn’t this so worth giving up all that silly thinking? All those useless decisions? Isn’t it so much easier to just be my good boy? My obedient bimbo? My handsome, wonderful, horny boy?”

“Yes!” Devon gasped. “Yes! S-so good! Mistress… Oh stars mistress!”

“There it is,” Amoora cooed. “You called me mistress. I knew you would, my sweet boy. Now, give mistress that wonderful cum.”

Her breasts squeezed his cock, and as the tip emerged her lips wrapped around it. The sudden sensation of warm tightness was too much for him to bear, and Devon let out a needy moan of pure pleasure, clutching the sheets as he thrust up into her mouth, moaning in ecstasy as he came, his cock throbbing, pulsing, unloading into Amoora’s hungry mouth. The lovely mooma moaned, her lashes fluttering as she drank the bursts of his seed with a gusto that only made Devon feel hotter than before.

Her lips slid off his cock along with her breasts, and Devon wasn’t surprised to see he was still hard. His nanobots had been quick to react to the frequency of his orgasms, and keeping erect was no problem for him now.

“Mmm,” Amooa purred. “That was wonderful, Devon. But a good boy deserves far more reward for what you’ve done,” she said, climbing onto the bed, straddling him, looming above him like some fertility goddess of a savage world. Divine. Beautiful. Worthy of his obedient worship. “Do you want it, Devon?”

“More than… than anything,” he gasped, and the truth in those words put a smile on his face.

“Then confirm our destination,” Amoora breathed. “Agree to go to Mandina. Agree, and let’s bring all your friends with us. Let us show them how much they’ll love a mooma world.”

Devon shivered in understanding. Many of the highest corporate families used his pleasure line for vacation. The sons and daughters of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the sector. All of them offered up to a ship staffed with moomas. A world filled with the seductive aliens.

With barely a thought a screen blinked into being beside him, hovering above the rumpled sheets. The DNA reader glowed like a red disc in the air as he lifted a shaking hand and pressed a thumb to it.

There was a beep, a flash of green, and the screen faded away.

“Confirmed destination,” the system’s voice chimed around them. “Thank you, director.”

“There we are. What a good boy I have,” Amoora cooed as she lazily sheathed him within her. “What a… mmmm… a gooooood boy.”

Devon groaned as her pussy swallowed his cock. He grabbed her hips as if to anchor himself to reality as waves of otherworldly pleasure washed over him. As Amoora rode him, her breasts bouncing on her chest, almost hypnotic in their sway.

“Yessss!” Devon moaned, sinking into the pleasure of the moment. Of her body. Relishing every stroke of her glorious pussy on his cock. “Yesss! Mistress! Love… love mistress! Want you! Want you! Please… ah. Mistress. Oh fuck. Fuck! Mistresssss!”

His body was perfectly attuned to hers. To her pussy. It took no time at all for him to cum again. Again. Again. A seemingly endless parade of pleasured peaks as colours swirled about the room in hypnotic tailings of lights. He felt as if he were floating. Floating on a sea of unconscious pleasure. Above depths of pleasure. And now he was sinking.

Sinking.

Deep into wonderful, heady submission.

At last he sagged beneath her, breathing hard, head as empty as his balls, finally spent. Finally done.

Amoora hummed sweetly, rising, unsheathing him from her pussy. She stepped off the bed, and at once Devon found himself staring at her gorgeous rump. Amoora spared a look over her shoulder, gave him a teasing smile.

“Be back soon, Devon,” she said. “I need to make some final preparations for our departure. You just relax. Get some strength back. I have a lot in mind for rewarding my good boy.”

Devon’s body tingled. “Yes… yes, mistress,” he breathed.

Amoora laughed softly, blew him a kiss and turned, departing the bedroom. Devon sighed, sagging limply on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the colours swirled and danced.

The future looked very bright for him indeed.

[justwinginglife]

Just What The Doctor Ordered (A Soshiro Hoshina One Shot)

Y'all know the drill- it's NSFW time.

It's late afternoon and you're typing away at your computer, inputting your latest medical report. You document everything about your last patient, what findings you saw, how you treated the condition, your follow-up instructions for future treatment, the usual.

You're a doctor on base at the Third Division and though usually you see patients either one at a time for their annual check-up's or all at once after a massive battle, at this point in time you have an unusually large gap in your schedule and you plan to make the most of it. You enjoy the peace and quiet because you know that working here, anything could happen at any time and you could be called in the middle of the night if a Kaiju so happened to strike.

You finish your report and lean back in your chair, taking a bite out of an apple you'd rested on top of your desk. You never know when you'll be needed so you make sure to snack when you can to keep your energy up. You stare at the fruit in your hand and laugh to yourself, "Guess an apple a day doesn't scare the doctor away after all." You shrug and start organizing your medical supply cart when suddenly you hear the clinic door open.

You look up to see your favorite patient smirking at you, leaning against the door frame as he clutches his wounded arm. "Soshiro." You say, shaking your head at him, "Didn't I tell you to stop getting hurt?"

He chuckles and pulls himself off of the door frame, sauntering towards you, blood dripping down his skin. "You know I'd do anything to see my favorite doctor."

You knew that was true as you had slowly started noticing he'd become a frequent flyer at the medical clinic, some injuries large, some injuries small. He'd even come in for a papercut once, the cheeky bastard. And he'd always wait for you. There were other doctors and nurses available but even if he was on the verge of death he wouldn't let anyone touch him but you.

You pick up some bandages and something to disinfect his arm. You grab his arm forcefully, leaning in to examine it, to which he grins. "Love it when you man handle me."

You roll your eyes and start cleaning the wound, though the corner of your lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile. He watches as you carefully bandage the cut up. "There- good as new." You say to him, expecting him to flash you that smirk again, maybe press a kiss to your hand, and say "Until next time, doc" as he saunters off down the hallway. But he doesn't do that this time. His eyes remain on you, lips curling into a sly smile.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Soshiro? What is it?"

He licks his lips, and leans back on the medical table, propping himself up by his hands resting behind him. His legs spread slightly, revealing a growing bulge in his pants. "Oh you know. I thought we could squeeze in some time for my physical."

You smirk. "Oh really now? And I suppose you'll want me to be extra thorough?"

He winks at you. "Oh baby, I want you to examine every inch of me."

You laugh, amused by his bold attitude today, but the laugh trails off as you realize he's slipped his raging boner out of his pants and wrapped his muscled hand around it.

"And I know exactly which inches you can start with." He whispers, leaning in towards you, his eyes daring yours not to look away as he strokes himself.

Something changes in you. You exhale loudly, the breath a little shaky, as you bite down on your lower lip hard. "Fuck." The sight of him edging himself on, rubbing that thumb of his across his own wet tip, causes a warm sensation to pool in your underwear. You desperately want to know what he tastes like.

He gives you a cocky grin as you get on your knees in front of him but you can tell his heart must be racing as fast as yours because he starts to flush a little at the sight of you positioned like this. In an instant, you close the distance and take his throbbing cock in your mouth. He groans and grips the edge of the medical table tight with one hand, pushing your head in deeper with the other hand. You choke a little and he thinks he might just cum now at the sight of your flushed face, saliva dripping from your mouth as you struggle to take all of his length in. He releases his hand from the back of your head and uses a finger to collect the saliva from your chin, bringing it up to his mouth to taste. He moans into his finger as you suck harder.

You love the taste of him, the way his precum slicks against your tongue, the way his dick gets acquainted with the back of your throat. Still gagging on him hard, you slide your knees apart slightly and slide a hand down in between your legs, slipping your soaked underwear down just slightly so you can finger your dripping pussy. His eyes widen at the sight and he grips the medical table harder, panting "Fucking hell."

For a moment, he just watches as you slide him in and out of your mouth while you touch yourself, his dick hardening itself further against the walls of your throat. Then he can't take it anymore. He balls up your hair in a fist and pulls you off his dripping cock. "That's enough now." He growls. He yanks you to your feet and your panties slip the rest of the way down your legs, crumpling on the floor. Then he gets on his knees and presses hungry kisses to your stomach and your hips before taking the rim of your skirt in his teeth and dragging it down your legs. He licks his lips as he eyes your cunt, bursting at the seams for him. He shoves two fingers deep into his mouth, thoroughly coating them, before he quickly shoves them into you. You yelp as you feel him enter you, his movements desperate and hungry. He savors the feeling of you clenching around him, slicking his fingers with your lust for him, as he pumps them in and out of you, curling his fingers slightly to hit just the right spot. He licks and sucks at your clit as he continues to finger you at a hard but steady pace.

"S-Soshiro." You moan. He pulls his head away from your clit, wanting to see what you look like moaning his name. He groans, not quite expecting the fire it lit in him. You're grasping your breast in one hand, thumb circling your nipple, and your head is thrown back in pleasure. He yanks his fingers out of you quickly, licking them clean as he stands up to face you. He wants that fucking neck of yours, it's like it was made for him the way it's arching like that. He wraps his hand around your throat and pulls you to him, gripping your hip hard with his other hand.

"God, when you fucking say my name." He snarls. Without another word, he's sucking and biting at your neck. The movements wet and messy as though he couldn't care less how he takes you in as long as he gets to devour you. He grinds up against your hips, his cock banging in between your legs as he marks up the length of your neck. He decides he wants to claim your mouth now so after a couple of nips at your jaw he dives into you with his tongue. The kisses are passionate and hungry. His tongue is needy, as though it's been set ablaze and the only thing that can save him is your tongue. He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it back a little with his teeth before releasing. "So fucking perfect." He murmurs as he begins to rub his thumb over the spot where he bit down on your bottom lip.

Then he decides he's had a better idea. He suddenly turns you around and bends you over the medical table. He admires the curve of your ass for a moment, giving it a squeeze, before he plunges his impatient cock into your pussy. You breathing gets heavy and the harsh sounds escaping your pretty lips drives him wild, causing him to thrust into you faster and harder. He digs his fingers into your hip and wraps his other hand around your marked up throat. It's just enough pressure to know he's there, but the sensation sends another moan tumbling out of your lips as more of your pussy dribbles onto his cock.

He smirks as he feels how wet you are. "Such a good fucking girl for me." He growls as he continues pumping into you vigorously.

You whimper and grab at your breast again, riding out the feeling. Then you feel it, a warmth that's started to burn in your core. "Ah fuck Soshiro!" You swear, the words coming out louder than you expected. You clap a hand over your mouth and he smirks again. He yanks the hand from your mouth and pins it roughly behind your back.

"None of that now, darling. I want to hear every filthy little thing that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours."

You groan hearing that and it earns you another sharp thrust. "Soshiro you better not fucking stop, I'm so fucking close goddamnit."

He chuckles darkly. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now be a good girl and soak my cock with your cum, yeah baby?"

You nod emphatically, "Yes baby, fuck yes baby." Your moans get louder as you start to convulse, your walls shuddering around his erection as your orgasm floods out of you. The feeling of the warm liquid dripping down his aching cock as he fucks you harder is enough to send him over the edge as well. With a couple more thrusts, he's soaked you in his cum. He collapses on top of your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he groans, riding out the wave of ecstasy.

You pull away from each other finally, leaning on opposite ends of the medical table trying to catch your breath.

Then he smirks at you as he pulls his clothes back on. "Same time tomorrow, doc?"

You roll your eyes and move to grab a towel to clean yourself up.

He's hit with a sudden wave of possessiveness as he realizes you're trying to wipe away the mess he's made in and on you. He knows you need to get cleaned up but somehow he was hoping to see you drenched in him a little longer. He snatches your wrist suddenly, causing you to drop the towel.

"No one's cleaning you up but me." He pushes you down so that your back hits the medical table. Then he starts to lick his cum off of your inner thighs first. His eyes flit upwards to your soaked mound and an involuntary growl rumbles up his throat.

"Yeah forget about tomorrow. We're going for round two now."

[armoredsuperheavy]

The Complete Raffles, Annotated (Rebind)

Who is Raffles?

Written by E. W. Hornung, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's brother-in-law, dedicated to ACD, and inspired by the Sherlock Holmes stories, but starring A.J. Raffles, a gentleman of leisure and recreational crime rather than a detective. Accompanied by his admiring friend and narrator, nicknamed "Bunny", mischief is afoot.

It's very shippable, and if you have an interest in historical fiction, Edwardian London, or are a Holmes/Watson fan, you owe it to yourself to check it out.

The Annotated Version

I originally found the annotated stories on the Raffles Redux website and was struck how complete and informative the annotations assembled by Sarah Morrissey and Genevieve L. Morrissey were. In addition to explaining many obscure things the modern reader would otherwise have completely missed, they also collected profuse illustrations from past editions.

I was dismayed that this great addition to the original, public domain Raffles tales was only available (at the time) in this ephemeral form. My reading was greatly enhanced by all these insights into the period and places of the stories. When I recently discovered it was available in an Amazon print on demand edition I immediately bought it.

What a bittersweet experience it was to have the text! Yes! YES! The text is out! In a nice big block with breathing room for the annotations and a handsome typeset at that! What a thoughtful design, but what else should I have expected, considering how well done the annotations were?!

But what was bitter, you ask? Well, that cheap thin cardstock cover, which immediately curled up like Hokusai's Great Wave after I perused 3 pages of the first story. This was infuriating. This book deserves so much better. But! We have the means of production. I couldn't do anything about the "perfect-bound" spine, but i could definitely fix this woefully inadequate cover.

Views of the text, annotations, illustrations.

Let's Rectify This Injustice

I sliced the covers off and removed as much paper from the spine as possible. Scrounged out a moderately "old timey" sheet big enough for endpapers, cut and attached them. Glued mull and an Oxford hollow type kraft paper tube on this bad boy. And then built a case, using the remainder of the endpapers sheet to stretch the book cloth supply.

Then, fortuitously, from the discarded flimsy cover, I was able to salvage the JC Leyendecker portrait of Raffles. This piece was originally done for Collier's magazine, and oozing "late Edwardian cruising". Brother can you spare a light? JCL was a magician.

A sleep overnight in the press and now the complete annotated Raffles (x Bunny of course) finally has the proper treatment, complete with that exquisite side eye right where it deserves to be.

I am Back (ElmoFire.gif)

This is my first finished book project in 4 years. It felt great to get back into it.

I'm finishing up a number of Dead Dove Publishing projects that were partially done when I ground to a halt in summer of 2020. Wish me luck and stay tuned for more...

ArmoredSuperHeavy, 25 Dec 2024

Fanbinding project #162

[tabootoji]

✰ - tags: fem! reader, possessive shoko, jealousy, brat taming, dirty talk, degradation, double penetration, spanking, f. orgasm, no use of y/n, all lowercase, minors dni

for a while i've been entertaining the idea of shoko dating a !bratty reader. she's very mellow and nonchalant, but i think her being with someone who's the complete opposite of her would be so cute!

you'd be the type of girlfriend who'd do anything you could to get a reaction out of shoko. whenever the two of you would go out together, you'd wear the skimpiest tops and the shortest skirts, tantalizingly swishing your hips so all eyes would be on you. you'd 'innocently' bend and twist your body while completing minuscule tasks, just to give everyone around you a provocative peek of your form. and of course, you'd mouth off in playful banter with shoko any chance you got, stooping lower and lower with each jab just to try and get under her skin.

your naughty behavior wouldn't be anything shoko couldn't handle though. she'd never admit it, but she'd secretly love the game of cat and mouse you both would play.

most of the time, shoko would hardly be phased when you'd attempt to bush her buttons, usually staying calm and collected. but there is one thing you'd do when all else failed, that would manage to completely piss her off - when you brazenly flirt with other people right in front of her.

picture you and shoko having a night out after you've spent the day taunting and teasing her, to no avail. you'd play the silent treatment and refuse to acknowledge her, while prancing to anyone that would give you the time of day. arching forward and pushing your cleavage up while grazing a stranger's arm with a smile, you'd be elated to know your girlfriend was shooting daggers at you while you were seducing a random.

as annoyed as shoko would get at your childish behavior, a part of her wouldn't be able to deny her excitement at the idea of punishing you for acting out. her sadistic side would crack through as she entertained the array of idea's she had in mind to put you in your place. maybe she would spank you till you were pleadingly sobbing out apologies, or tie you up and have her way with you all while demanding you not to cum until she said you could.

shoko would turn her attention back to her drink she would likely be sipping with a smirk, after landing on a perfect option.

fast forward to you and shoko heading back home together, she would show you the special surprise she'd been saving for the next time you decided to misbehave. next thing you know, you'd be lying on your back, legs in the air as shoko pinned you down and aggressively drove her pelvis onto yours as a double sided dildo penetrated the both of you.

"this is what you wanted right? to be fucked like the little slut you are?" she'd sneer at you while roughly delving into your soaking cunt. you'd hold the back of your knee's helplessly, eyes rolling to the back of your head and moaning like a bitch in heat as shoko continued to hump you brutally. your conjoined, juicy cream forming at the base of the toy would drip everywhere as both of your tight pussy's gripped the ends of it.

in short intervals, shoko would bear down on the device and spank your ass cheeks till you begged for mercy before continuing to rapidly propel her hips down on the sex toy. and the harder she fucked herself onto it, the deeper it would go inside of you. "what happened to all that shit talking from before? got nothin' to say now?" she would mock you, taking advantage of your vulnerable state.

and if shoko couldn't get any crueler, she'd raise herself one leg at a time and proceed to impassionately smash her vagina against yours, your sore clits would bump each other, and the slapping of your soft, supple skins would rouse both of you to huff loudly in satisfaction. during your steamy session, you're reminded of why you even push shoko to her limit in the first place - so you could watch your aloof partner turn into an envious beast.

you'd throw your head back in bliss as shoko coaxes you into a toe curling orgasm, your ring of muscle spasming as it leaked out slippery slick that gushed around the silicone dildo. angling herself to grind your hips together, shoko would rasp out, "don't you ever forget, your mine, and only mine." and of course, you'd be short of any clever retort after your mind blowing gratification.

you might think twice before provoking shoko again - or not, cause where would be the fun in that?

✰ - a/n: happy pride <3

[melodic-haze]

Can I ask for a sub Jade x fem reader? Jade is so cocky and self-confident thinking that she will dominate the relationship, but reader puts her in her place by taking her to the extreme Thank you in advance and have a nice day!💕

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Jade x dom!afab!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: None? A lot of biting?? Does that count???? Rough sex in general

☆ — NOTES: To celebrate getting Jade I am writing about scissoring her she CANNOT escape me. As per usual I wrote this at the dead of night so if nothing makes sense then 🤷‍♀️

It's so funny, dating Jade, bc she's so self-assured of anything and everything—no matter how risky a deal may be, it's as if she has it all figured out.. and really, she probably does. That confidence transfers over to her general personality ofc which. Aha 💀 goodness

She's definitely convinced herself that she was going to take the lead for every single thing, taking care of you and punishing you if you deserve such treatment. She already does so in her daily life, what's a relationship with someone so precious as you make a difference?

A lot, she goes on to realise sooner or later when you have your first time together LOL

"So eager, aren't you," she practically coos at you as she steps further into the secluded room, taking off her hat and placing it carefully on the vanity.

"What, you rather I wasn't?"

"Now, I didn't say that." The pink-haired woman let out a soft laugh, "I would like to give you credit where credit is due, however, for waiting to get inside the bedroom rather than pulling me into the next available alley you find."

A huff slipped past your upturned lips, your eyes scanning every inch of your lover—who you once thought was unattainable without a hefty price, much like such precious gems are, is now standing in front of you at the foot of the bed with a not-so-innocent twinkle in her slitted eyes.

"I wouldn't dare have our first time together in some random setting," you simply say, "a lady should be treated as such.. and I wouldn't want to break you where everyone could see. Not yet, anyway."

That gained Jade's attention, her hand halting to a stop before she could slowly remove her singular glove. "Oh? I was under the assumption that I would have to take care of you, sweetheart. Unless you think that I can't leave you more than satisfied?" She walks up to you as she speaks, tracing your skin with a manicured nail before gently grasping onto your hand, "Because I assure you that I never leave my clients with the feeling of.. incompletion."

"One problem with that statement."

"Mm?"

"I'm not a client of yours, am I? I'm much more than that."

She raises an eyebrow, its shape perfectly sculpted and arched and perfect, "Confident in where you stand, aren't you? Such arrogance can often lead to one's downfall, you know."

You walk forward, prompting her to follow your motions like an intimate dance, "Are you saying that because you believe you're the exception to the rule?"

"Not that I'm the exception, no.. but challenging such things is something I am required to have expertise on, considering my line of work."

You hummed in response, "You've yet to prove that to me beyond professional transactions."

"Haven't I?"

You don't speak in turn, though instead you draw your hand back from hers before swiping it under her intricate blazer that hangs on her shoulder, letting it slip down.. and then pressing the same hand on the centre of her chest to push.

Your lover gently falls onto the mattress with a soft sound of surprise, with her long hair fanning out under her like some sort of pink halo. That momentary surprise is easily replaced with a pleased smirk, however, as her hands roam around her body to caress every inch of herself like a tantalising temptress, simultaneously opening up her outfit and fully revealing the lacy underwear underneath.

"So you caught me off-guard. That's a first."

You moved to straddle her, stripping off your topmost clothing and discarding them to the side, "Is it, though? No point lying through your teeth there."

"Ha. I suppose you do have a penchant for surprising me on the occasion." She puts her hands on your hips, gripping you and gently digging her nails into your form, "And I also suppose that that was you taking advantage of the situation, which.. bravo. I hadn't even noticed I let you take the lead."

You leaned down, capturing her lips with your own and cutting off whatever words she had planned to form after—if she ever even planned to, which you sincerely doubt it considering how her arms tugged you closer to her—before drawing back and leaving her wanting more. Her beautiful blue eyes, formerly slits, had seemingly expanded as she laid there in a silent daze.

"And you can continue. Letting me take the lead, I mean." You breathed out as you took one of her breasts into your hand and groped her idly, "Let me take care of your needs and desires this time, yeah?"

"Unfortunately that isn't in my job description," she jests with a slight rasp to her voice.

"Too bad you're not working right now," you quipped back.

And without any more to say, you lean back in as the two of you let your desires take over completely.

She definitely absolutely challenges your authority HAHAHAHA oh my god. She's SUCH a brat actually, teasingly trying to grab the reigns back and dominate you but somefuckinghow you're looking at her and acting a certain way that it actually sends a shiver down her spine once she realises you mean to consume her wholly like a snake with its prey

She isn't used to being on the receiving end, to being the one being taken care of, to being the one overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you're giving her. And the foreign experience fucking thrills her bc almost nothing scares this woman in bed

I say "almost nothing" bc if your buttons are pushed enough bc she makes it a point to make it INSUFFERABLE for you bc you could just hand her control and she'd take care of you :((( and take the easy route like everyone else :((((( and you snap, there's no telling what'll happen to her 🥰

ROUGH HER THE FUCK UP and that's when she starts getting concerned for her wellbeing (in the fun way), though the thrill is still there and has never been this amusing and overstimulating since.. god knows when. It has her wanting for MORE

She wouldn't beg though. She refuses to do so—something something she still has some modicum of dignity in her—but that's fine.. you can just have her struggle in desperation 😋!!

Such a bestial, carnal act was unbefitting of such a classy lady.. and that debauched expression on Jade's face was even less so.

Her nails dug into your skin, though this time her grip was a far cry from its gentle yet possessive force. Instead, it was harsh and desperate, perhaps even enough to draw blood. Your neck and the line of your collarbone was in a worse state as your lower back was, though, with the multiple bite marks that littered your skin (and some of them were even the slightest bit punctured, not necessarily all that dissimilar to a snake bite).

Not like she was any better either, with how throwing her head back meant that you were able to see the myriad of marks all across her body—her skin was painted like a canvas, signed repeatedly by you and only you through some sort of binding contract.

You bucked your hips into hers with a crooked smirk to your lips that easily broke off as a groan escaped your lips. Your clit had rubbed onto hers in a certain way that had the both of you stumbling, if the time spent repeatedly switching from making her hold off from cumming, continuously pushing her off the edge and having her please you as a form of gratitude rather than her initial service didn't exhaust you two enough already.

Whenever you look at her, she always seems to be on the cusp of truly letting go and pleading for you to finally give her the release she needs from your constant minstrations throughout the night, always seems to be on the edge of admitting that you hold the power over her, that you were more than some random client like she joked about.. but she seems to have some extra willpower within her that prevents such sudden declarations.

Doesn't matter, though, because you have the power to simply draw back and leave her on the tipping point.

And when you look at her again, when you see her mouth smudged with lipstick move as she voices out her thoughts, when you see her reach out for her, when you feel just how embarrassingly wet she is...

When you see the Stoneheart at her rawest, without any sort of modification to suit whoever she deigns to interact with, you just can't help but give her a bit more.

Guys I'm a firm believer in Jade having fangs but anyway

Be mean enough to her and eventually she'll crack 🥰🥰🥰 and it'd be RUDE to leave her hanging..........or yk. Leave her hanging 😜 as a way for her to remember exactly how easily you can put her in her place

Either way now she knows FULL well not to get all cocky again unless she wants that hot-and-cold rough treatment again ☺️ and she also knows not to underestimate you ANYMORE what a way to learn not to underestimate someone

[princessleechan]

special treatment (m) - chapter 12 + written chapter

Chapter list

🖊️Chapter tags: MDNI, mentions of drinking, office au, secretary au, misunderstandings, mentions of insecurity and harrassment, virgin!au, one sided rivalry, grump x sunshine, grump!reader, shy sunshine!mingyu, (w.c. 911) , more awkwardness, a big accident, only one bed…

🖊️Tag list: @tomodachiii @humankimbap @aaniag @odevote118 @minwonwoozi @ateez-atiny380 @chisskaa @ninigyuuu @sarcasticsweetlara @bemybabiibish @blaycke @lirtha97 @kwanisms @nebulousbookshelf @gyubakeries @btsdomination @gyuguys @okiedokrie-main @jrinbb @lexyraeworld @armycarat2612 @cherrylita @jhornytrash @alyssa19123456 @chanichanvhan @minhosprettywife @jeon1w @perfectiondazesworld @skittlez-area512 @bmo-bri @blvked19 @leechansprincess @livixcore @jihoonsbbygirl

You had a plan set in motion in your head. Land safely, take the company car to the hotel (unfortunately the one with Mingyu in it), get into your hotel room to shower, and enjoy the rest of their five-star amenities before waking up early to work the business event the following day in the same building. It seemed fool proof. Yet, the universe had other things in store for you. 

“I’m sorry, there has to be some mistake. Please check in again, maybe the spelling is wrong. It’s all on my ID,” You insisted to the person at the front desk, your eyebrows furrowing anxiously.

She shook her head as she made another attempt typing away at her keyboard. “No, I’m sorry ma’am, there is no reservation for today under that name.”

You shut your eyes, begging this all to be some horrific nightmare as you pinched your forearm to finally wake up, but you would only open your eyes to realize that this was a reality you had no chance of escaping from.

Your eyes turned to Mingyu over your shoulder, who stood timid for a man who towered over you, eyes rounding out in concern as he was visibly overwashed with guilt. He pressed his lips together as he fiddled his fingers, the outcome of his planning not as perfect as he had thought it was. “Mingyu,” You said sharply, taking a deep breath.

“Y-yes,” He stammered, a bead of sweat just falling down his forehead.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure, I definitely booked for this hotel–excuse me.” He ushered to stand beside you, standing arm and arm with the velvet ropes posts bordering you both as he directed his attention to the front desk, hands claiming the counter confidently. “My name is Kim Mingyu. My name should be under a reservation unless I made a mistake for myself also.”

The receptionist typed away at the speed of light, coming up with a similar result, shaking her head apologetically. “No, I’m sorry.”

The light dimmed from Mingyu’s eyes, his streak of successes and tasks meeting exemplary results broken. Instead, he was met with humiliation, and in front of his coworker he had nothing but utter respect for no less. Someone who ended up having to face the consequences of his actions. 

“But I can double-check for all future dates for all affiliate hotels under our database…And yes, it looks like I was able to find both your names for this location for exactly next month.”

“Next month?” You repeated.

Mingyu groaned, running a hand over his face, ready to crawl inside a hole and never come out. Could it get any worse?

You glanced at Mingyu, initially frustrated at the circumstances but felt it dissipated into sympathy watching him bow his head in shame, embarrassed that he could make such a huge mistake. 

You raised a hand behind him hovering just over his back before stopping, stalling in air until you dropped it to your side, pulling back on a patient smile. “That won’t do. Please cancel both those reservations and book us any rooms available. Any two rooms.”

“Unfortunately, this is a very busy time of the year. Most of our rooms are booked except for one single king bed.”

Your eyes shot up, noticing in your peripheral vision that Mingyu did the same. If he had any thoughts on the matter he was keeping them to himself, but Mingyu being Mingyu, his face was an open book. You started to think of alternative courses of action, ones that wouldn’t disrupt or delay anything you both had scheduled. “Well, I see how that would be a problem. Do you recommend any hotels nearby, by chance?”

She gave you a grim look. “I believe the closest hotel within the area is maybe a 30 to 45-minute drive without traffic? Even so, it’s the busy season. They’re likely booked as well.”

Great.

“The king size is very large and can fit two full-grown adults,” The employee attempted to reassure, making your coworker immediately stiffen at the mere thought.

“A couch is also included in the room as well if that makes you more comfortable. Since this is a very unfortunate situation, we can try to accommodate both of you the best we can given your situation. Extra pillows, toiletries, complimentary snacks or breakfast. Your company has been a loyal supplier and member of ours for a long time, we’re so sorry this has happened.”

You raised a brow. “Our company?”

The receptionist nodded before making a quick glance at Mingyu, to which he quickly turned away, a subtle red coloring his cheeks from the overt attention. He took a subtle step back, as if cowering hidden behind you was possible with his height and stature. 

“Right,” You nod, making sense of the sudden hospitality that you weren’t used to whenever you traveled with the company. Of course, Mingyu got recognized. “I guess, we’ll take the single room.”

“Hey,” Your head turned to your new roommate, looking back at you as he gripped his luggage handle like a lifeline. “Really? Are you really ok with this?”

This situation wasn’t ideal, but it was the only one you had. “What choice do we have?”

“Wonderful, I will cancel those future reservations and set up that new room for you both.”

The universe was a bitch that knew how to push your buttons. The biggest, reddest button of all being Kim Mingyu.

[fanaticsnail]

Maybe it's just me, but I feel like tumblr has been eating my asks. I sent one to you a little while ago about an idea I thought was pretty funny, but if it's because you didn't feel comfortable answering or just didn't like it, that's totally okay. I won't be upset if you ignore this for your own comfort. I'm sorry if this is coming off as rude in any way, I'm not trying to come off that way, I promise.

The silly idea I had was, considering the beef between Kid and Beckman (probably one-sided all things considered), what would happen if Beckman had a daughter that fell in love with Kid? I'm imagining a "But daddy, I love him!" type of situation.

Reader: But daddy I love him! 🥺

Beckman: 💀 *thinking about buying 20 more packs of cigarettes*

Shanks: *dying of laughter*

Beautiful, darling anon.

Firstly, I swear to you that Tumblr has not eaten your ask. It's sitting very comfortably in my ask box while I covered my hands and muffled the initial scream of joy in my palms. The cogs have been turning ever since, and it's one of those fics that I simply cannot stop thinking about. I am consumed with it so much that I can almost think of nothing else.

Secondly, I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS PROMPT. I TOLD MY MUTUALS ABOUT IT AND I AM PHYSICALLY IMPLODING.

@jintaka-hane - here's the synopsis 😏

I have made an outline, set up several events, and attempted to make it a one-shot to no avail. It has gotten really angsty really quickly, but I am slowly but surely chipping away at it.

Here is the playlist for "But Daddy, I love him." Synopsis below the cut.

Synopsis:

Shanks always knew the risk he took in claiming a single father as the first-mate to his crew - but not ever did he anticipate an experience such as this.

Having you as Beckman's daughter, and apple of his eye, aboard the Red-Force was always a joy. Seeing the growth from a small child in infancy to a woman of such strength and courage was one of the few rays of sun against the storm clouds gathering in the raging sea.

As assistant to Hongo, the doctor aboard the ship, you opted to remain behind to seek and source out medical equipment for resupply while your father and your crew set sail for a month. Two weeks before they were due to return, you adventure to port where you witnessed the sight of a masked man dragging an unconscious, hulking redhead over his shoulder, with blood and bone breaking away at a mutilated and partially decapitated arm.

Immediately snapping into medical survival mode, you usher the two men to your lodgings and begin the horrible task of claiming the rest of this man's arm and suturing up the rest of his scarred flesh. Slipping in and out of consciousness, his tongue and lips would sing nothing but your praises each time he awoke. You bully him, yelling at him to stay put and keep still - and he flirts with you, telling you "yes, ma'am" and "no, ma'am" with as much of a grin as he can grimace through the pain.

When he finally gains full consciousness, you feel safe enough to tell relay to him the exact amount of damage done to his arm. You tell him you recognise the wound as a haki-infused bullet - something you know of intimately well. You know the treatment, you know the damage, and you know how much pain they can bring to an individual far into the future. He gruffly utters his thanks, asks you how much he owes you for treatment, and you simply roll your eyes and leave.

Before you have an opportunity to leave, he tugs at your hand and urges your faces ever closer together, looking up at you through his eyelashes and claiming your lips atop his. The kiss sparks passion, his injured state prompts your actions to remain careful but longing. He ushers you into the bed beside him and shows you just how much passion he can muster with only one arm and his partial strength.

By the end of the fortnight, you're hopelessly in love with one another. He offers you a place on his crew, and you inform him you already have one. As he reaches the pier where his ship is being repaired, you see your vessel on the horizon. He hooks his arms over your shoulder, first narrows his eyes before immediately widening them in shock.

As you point out your vessel to him, his lips part in shock. He has not only slept with a pirate rivalling his crew, but he has slept with the daughter of a man who claimed his arm from him. And he was in love with you. Desperately and unapologetically in love with you.

And you were none the wiser, only seeing your dad and your family sailing into bay to take you on their next journey.

IT HAS BEEN ON MY MIND EVER SINCE, AND I WANT TO KNOW MORE BEFORE I EXPLODE.

Anyway, that's just me. Thank you for your beautiful prompt, I am chip chip chipping away 🖤

[merakiui]

victorian era doctor riddle rosehearts and his darling patient suffering from hanahaki disease.

dr. rosehearts who is the finest medical practitioner in town, renowned for his expertise and intelligence in the field. so it's only fitting that, as a noble and only child hailing from a wealthy set of parents, you are given the best treatment available. riddle sees so many affluent families and so you're no different. this disease, however, is an oddity. it's very scarcely documented in old texts, and most of the information regarding it has been lost to time. supposedly, the cure to this flowery ailment remains unknown. for riddle, this is as much of a challenge as it is an inspiration. he will cure you; that's his promise as a proud doctor.

so to better monitor you and keep track of your condition, riddle suggests you be moved into his home. a temporary arrangement, of course. it's not nearly as grand as what you're used to, but it is quite spacious. it's half hospital and half home, a place in which patients come to him. for isolation purposes, if their illness is particularly dangerous, amongst other reasons. and what reason would anyone have to doubt the great dr. rosehearts?

your parents are desperate. they'll do anything if it means you'll stop coughing up petals or complaining of a throat scratched sore by persistent thorns. riddle collects samples of the petals in hopes that the town's botanist rollo flamme can identify the exact species, where it commonly grows, how to safely manage it, and so on. it's a peculiar case, one riddle has only ever spied remnants of in old notes.

you rely so heavily on dr. rosehearts, your way of life compromised. you beg him to help you, to get rid of whatever's causing this. it takes time, but rollo identifies the flower. it's a curious finding. such a flower is not native to this part of the country. in fact, there should be no reason for it to be here, for it cannot thrive in this type of environment. riddle is left puzzled. just how did such a flower find its way into your system? what is sustaining it? is it sapping your life away? so many questions arise, yet none can be answered in full.

most importantly, what does the timeline look like if death looms on the horizon? how long does he have before the worst strikes?

it has been some time and, though he knows he ought to remain impartial, dr. rosehearts has found himself infatuated with his poor patient. he tends to you like one might a rose in a garden, diligently and ever so carefully, pruning away signs of sickness in order to keep you somewhat healthy. it feels inevitable, even more so when your legs give out and, much to your horror, little branches with tiny leaves begin to poke through your ankles.

so now you're placed in a wheelchair, and that is that. most days he thinks you're more doll than human, especially since your spirits seem far more dampened than they once were. you wither in your chair, quiet and wistful, longing for good health. though it's in his profession to save, he's never seen you in a more beautiful state. like a statue doomed to exist in stiff silence. like a single flower struggling to brave harsh conditions. like a doll destined to be taken care of by his gentle, capable hands.

he was never allowed dolls as a child. such toys were distracting according to his mother. but now he has one for himself and, even if he thinks himself too old to play with dolls, you're one he just can't put down.

perhaps it's for the best that your legs are broken and your lungs are weak and your entire body is supported by this parasitic plant. with this, he's given the chance to finally indulge in one of the many things he was denied as a child.

the appeal of a doll is that they are versatile. they can wear an entire wardrobe of clothes. they can be bent into various positions. they can look upon you with glass eyes and smile with rosebud lips. and they can't speak. never speak!

riddle doesn't need to be traditional for something so unethical. weddings and rings and courtship mean everything in his dreams, but he is a man watered with logic and sensibility. and you are just a quiet, fragile rose drowning in unwanted, suffocating affection.